Cold Fire
by electrons
Summary: It's interesting that Wesley and Willow were being tempted to the dark side at about the same time on their respective shows. If those two story lines collided imagine the potential. Our favorite watcher and favorite witch team up when both have nothing to lose to get revenge on the people who ruined their lives. Warning: gruesome violence toward people who kind of deserve it.
1. Black

There was blood on her shirt. There was blood on Tara's shirt. There were tears in her eyes. The salty water dripped down her cheeks and fell onto Tara's shirt, mixing in with the blood like they were spell ingredients. Maybe they were. Maybe a spell was being cast right now, and Willow just didn't realize it. Willow held her love and cried and cried. Tara couldn't die. Tara was kind and sweet and good. People like Tara weren't supposed to die. Willow's blurry vision barely made out the bloody torn-up fabric that covered the mauled portion of Tara's flesh, but she could smell the acrid scent of gunpowder. She thought of spells. The world was full of magics. Somewhere out there was a spell that could return her love to her and set right what had gone so very wrong. Willow ran. She did not know where she was going until she reached the Magic Box. The store wasn't even open, and Willow had not thought to bring her spare key. Willow raised her hands to render the door into splinters of wood.

"Do you really think the answers you want are in there?" Willow whirled around to identify the speaker. She was a well-dressed professional with an untrustworthy smile. "I know you're smarter than that Willow. If there were any secrets in that dinky building you'd have found them by now. The power you seek is buried deep, where the weak dare not wander."

"Who are you," Willow demanded. "How do you know my name?"

"My name is Lilah, and before I answer any more questions for you, you must answer one for me. Are you weak, or do you dare? Do you dare to rip into the seams of the earth and reform reality into a construction of your design? Do you dare, or do I waste my time?"

…

Wesley was hunched over an ancient volume the Watcher's Council believed every copy of had been destroyed centuries ago. Not so long ago, but a lifetime ago as well, such a find would have filled him with wonder and amazement. Now the volume was only a means to an end, a collection of dried pulp and glue bound in the skin of some long dead animal. He would scour the pages for clues to his destination and then forget it. A knock at the door filled him with a flush of cold fury. When Lilah had offered him the resources of Wolfram & Hart to search for a way to find and retrieve Conner she had promised he would be undisturbed during his research. That being said, even if he were told he would have to conduct his research while listening to recordings of banging cymbals overlaying American pop music, her offer was still not one he could afford to turn down. Any possibility of finding Conner was one he had to explore, and this deal wouldn't even cost him the soul that at this point he would have gladly parted with. As Lilah had pointed out it was probably earmarked for hell now anyway. Still, whatever this interruption was would be a waste of precious time. He decided to simply pay no mind to it.

Lilah entered unbidden. "You ignoring me now?"

"Whenever possible," Wesley said in a dull apathetic voice.

"Well I brought you a study partner."

"As I have repeatedly told you," Wesley said with rising anger. "I have no desire to work with any of the corrupt mages under your employ. I will do my research alone if it please you."

"Everything about you pleases me," Lilah said with a cheeky grin Wesley couldn't see because he was reading, but he could just imagine. When she continued speaking she was talking to someone else. "This is Wesley. I believe you two have met, and I think you can help each other find what you are looking for." Wesley finally looked up at Lilah's evil grin and sparkling eyes, sharply juxtaposed to the dead eyes and dour expression of Willow Rosenberg, who happened to be standing behind her. Lilah spoke to Wesley again. "Is she too corrupt for you?"

Wesley jumped to his feet. "Willow?! Are you all right? Did Wolfram & Hart abduct-"

Willow cut him off. "I'm just looking for answers. Can you help me?"

…

Fred couldn't sleep. Gunn's muscular form next to her was as strong and steady as a rock and just as comforting. His body radiated heat, but that only made her feel colder. She slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and felt a shiver seize her whole body and make her toes curl. Her skin erupted into gooseflesh. Her nipples hardened and shrunk into her chest. She waited for the cold feeling to subside, but it didn't.

Fred backed out of the bathroom. She could see Gunn's body still, but now he looked cold and dead. She ran to him. She shook him as hard as she could. "Charles," she whispered, afraid to raise her voice for reasons she didn't understand. "Wake up. Something's wrong."

Gunn roused from his slumber with little joy. "What time is it?"

"Something is in the hotel." She didn't know how she knew, but she did.

"Why is it so hot in here?" That question terrified her even more. She felt so cold she was sure her blood would turn to gelatinous slush. There was a numb pit in her chest. "Baby?"

"Something is in the hotel," she repeated.

Gunn jumped out of bed, now fully awake. "Where? What is it?"

Gunn made for the hall and Fred followed him. In the hallway they could hear a noise coming from downstairs. It was a horrible noise, although they couldn't quite place the origin of it. Fred grabbed a crossbow from her room and Gunn an ax. They both quietly made their way down the stairs. As Fred struggled to contain the spasms the cold was sending through her she watched beads of sweat roll of her lover's skin. The physics alone were impossible. She wondered what sort of creature was responsible for this. In the lobby they saw it, or rather they saw her. It was a woman. That much was certain. Little else was. The woman had black streaks running through her hair, which Fred thought was red but couldn't be sure in the darkness. The woman was holding a sleeping infant. At her feet was the source of the sound. It was a man still clinging to life against the odds. Blood formed a wide pool around him. The shadows hid his injuries, but he smelled like fire and rot. The woman turned to them, and Fred was afraid.

Gunn gasped in recognition. "I remember you."

The woman ignored him. She held Fred still with a hard gaze coming from eyes as white as the fuzzy mold you sometimes found on raspberries. Fred didn't know what made her think about that. She was colder than ever. She dropped her crossbow. With her hands free she hugged herself, trying to retain the little warmth she had left. "What do you want?"

Without a word the woman held out the baby. Fred took him and held him close, not daring to hope. Before she could ask for the baby's identity the woman was gone. The temperature returned to normal, and Fred breathed a sigh of relief as her skin loosened. Gunn turned on the lights, and they were now able to identify the body. It was Holtz. "How…" He trailed off, unable to articulate his confused thoughts. Holtz had expired while they had dealt with the woman Fred was sure she had seen somewhere, but she couldn't place where.

"Who was that," Fred asked.

"Willow, remember? She was here when we got back from Pylea."

Now Fred did remember, but she was only more confused. "Do you think this is…"

"One way to find out." Gunn stared at the baby for a moment. "Angel!"

Fred held the baby close. Even as a corpse Holtz frightened her. Though to be fair he was an intimidating corpse. His body was littered with stab wounds, burns of various natures and ugly multi-hued bruises. Someone had taken out a lot of rage on this man. Angel, Cordelia and Groo all arrived downstairs at the same time. Fred had forgotten Cordelia and her beau were staying over. Cordelia wanted to be there for Angel. Fred locked eyes with Angel and then he stared at the bundle in her arms. Wordlessly he walked up to her and picked the child up.

"Is he…" Cordelia could barely speak. She sounded like she was choking on tears.

"It's Conner," Angel said. He held the infant as though the child were made of glass and could shatter at the slightest pressure. Angel was so wrapped up in cradling Conner he didn't even seem to notice Holtz. "He's not hurt. He's okay. My son's alive and here and okay…"

Fred was amazed to see Angel cry. Cordelia put her hand on his shoulder. "He is."

Groo was the one to finally address the elephants in the room. "How did this miracle come to pass, and from where did this disfigured corpse come? It seems an ill omen to couple with an event of such joy." Angel and Cordelia didn't seem to hear him, but when Fred remembered the awful chill she knew Groo was right to be unsettled.

Gunn answered the question. "I saw Willow."

This seemed to shock Cordy out of her obliviousness. "Willow?"

"There was something wrong with her," Fred said.

"Can't have been too wrong if she saved my son," Angel retorted.

Fred felt panic clawing at her throat. "No! You don't understand!"

Fred hadn't meant to shout, but at least she now had everyone's attention. "Something was in this hotel, something evil. I don't know who or what it was, but it's dangerous."

"I must concur," Groo said to Fred's relief. "Any that could so maim a person must be of foul intent. This body was subjected while living to treatment designed to inflict agony."

Cordelia examined the body for a moment before dismissing it with a sniff. "Holtz stole Conner. He deserved what he got." Fred's feeling of disquiet was mirrored on Groo's face when Cordelia turned back to Conner. Cordelia noticed neither of them.

Gunn spoke up. "I'm right there with you, but don't you think we should at least find out what the hell is going on? Maybe we should call this Willow chick and ask how exactly it is that she pulled off the thing that everyone said was impossible?" Fred felt warmth toward her boyfriend for being the voice of reason while the rest of them were trapped in a mire of emotion.

Cordelia used her most put-upon sigh. She pulled out her phone while never taking her eyes off of Angel and the baby in his arms. Fred watched Cordelia raise the phone to her ear with a tight chest and uneasy stomach. "Dawn? I was trying to call Willow." Pause. "What do you mean she's missing? Are you sure? My friends just saw-" A slightly longer pause. "Here in LA." An even longer pause. "Shot?! Are they-" A very short pause. "Dead?! Wow, wow, slow down. What do you mean you don't know if she'll pull through?" Now it sounded like Cordelia and this Dawn person were talking over each other. Fred felt sick. She was so glad that Conner was safe in his father's arms, but she could not shake the feeling that there would be a terrible price.

…

Jonathan stared at the bars of his cell. He heard Andrew talking but made the conscious decision to block him out. "Did you hear me?" Jonathan sighed. It wasn't working. "Jonathan?"

"What," He snapped.

"I'm sorry I betrayed you."

Jonathan sighed. "It's okay. It sort of comes with the character archetype."

"That's true," Andrew said. "So can we still be friends?"

Before Jonathan could answer an officer entered the room. "Levinson and Wells?"

"That's us," both boys declared at once.

"You made bail."

"Warren bailed us out?!" Andrew asked eagerly.

The officer shook his head. "Your lawyer, from Wolfram & Hart right?"

Jonathan had no idea what the officer was talking about, but he did not want to spend one more moment in prison. "Yeah sure, absolutely. That's our law firm all right."

"Well come on." The officer took them through the process, and in not much time at all the boys were standing in front of a strange man. He had shocks of white in his otherwise brown hair, and his eyes… When Jonathan was a young friendless boy in elementary school the other kids used to play a game. Jonathan was never allowed to join, but no one could stop him from watching them play. Each kid would take a red solo cup and dig around in the mulch that coated the playground for roly-polies. At the end of recess whoever had the most roly-polies won. But the part of the game the kids seemed to enjoy most was after the counting, when they would each take a rock or a stick and ground their roly-polies into paste. This man's eyes looked like someone had dipped an ice cream scoop into the roly-poly paste and placed a scoop into each of his empty eye sockets. They were black as black, haunting and dead. Jonathan did not want to go anywhere with this man. Jonathan put a halting hand on Andrew's shoulder.

"Are you ready to go," the strange man asked.

Jonathan shook his head. "I think we'll stay."

The man smiled. There was no warmth in his smile. It was dead like his eyes, which reflected no expression, emotion or light of any kind. There was nothing in his eyes, except for maybe the souls of a million dead insects, whatever that amounted to. "It's too late for that."

Jonathan felt something inside of him, a terrible pain that latched onto every nerve and bloomed like a fertile spring. It paralyzed him utterly. He could not even scream, and he so desperately wanted to scream. He could not see or hear, only feel the unending pain.

…

Warren begged. He offered money. He offered his soul. He offered his body. She didn't want it, not any of it. He promised her wealth. She didn't want it. He promised her fame. She didn't want it. He promised her power. She assured him hers dwarfed his as the mighty mountain dwarfs the pebbles lying at its feet. He could not deny that, even if he would have dared. So he bled and bled. He could smell flesh rotting, and see it as well, for the skin had been flayed away to provide a clear view. He felt his blood turn to acid and burn him from the inside out. He felt his bones turn brittle and begin to snap under his weight. Blood dripped from his ears, nose and eyes, pocking his skin where the acid ate through the derma. He felt his lungs fill with broken glass, slicing with every useless breath. "Let me die," he begged. "Let me die."

Finally she seemed to consider one of his requests. "Death? Is that your desire?"

"Yes." Blood poured from his mouth in such quantities that he wondered how she could understand a word he said. But she seemed to. "Kill me please. Let me die. Please."

She leaned in close. He could smell her. Through the salt, iron, putrefaction and, shamefully enough, ammonia that was his own scent he could smell her. She smelled like dead roses, ash and the menstrual blood of the infertile. She smelled like good things gone bad and the vibrant red flickering to dead black. Beneath it all was the terrible white smell of nothing. He wanted her away from him. He feared the empty. "You took life from one I love. Return it to her and I will grant you the death you desire." He would have wept, but his eyes were full of blood.

"I can't bring Buffy-" The pain exploded. It was everywhere. The pain was him, and he was the pain. He smelled feces and felt everything in him contract, trying to force out the pain, unaware it was useless. He was the pain. His body tried to shut down, tried to die. She forbade it.

"I'm not talking about Buffy!"

"Let me die." There was nothing but the pain.

"Say her name!"

"Who," he tried to ask, but it was pointless.

"Say it or live forever!"

"Noooooo." His moan wasn't human anymore, not really.

He heard gasps and screams of horror. "Warren!"

He heard her voice of smoke and rotting leaves. "Thank you Wesley, you can put them over there." He heard movement, screaming, tears, begging and other familiar things from another life, a life before the pain that was only and always. "Yes, that will do nicely."

"Why are you doing this?" That voice belonged to a boy from the life before. The boy had loved him, and he had used the boy for selfish reasons. But that was another life.

"For Tara. You took my love from me, my world, my life." She was in front of him again, the giver of pain. She was a god in this world of only and always pain. Her will be done.

…

It was funny in that way people said things were funny when they weren't even remotely humorous, Cordelia thought. Angel got his son back and moments later he is told the love of his life is dying. Now they were all in a hospital waiting room. Xander was there. So was his former fiancé. Dawn was sitting next to Xander, snuggling up to him like a security blanket. He had a protective arm around her. With no Giles, Buffy or Willow present it fell to him to be the adult and look after her. Wasn't that just wacky? Fred and Gunn were watching the baby, and Groo was still in LA looking for Lorne. That left only Cordelia to give Angel any comfort, but she couldn't think of a thing to say. Then it hit her. It was a smell, awful and overpowering. She jumped to her feet, instinct taking over and ready for a fight. She could smell death all around them, and in the middle of it the smell of pennies. Lighting filled the air.

Dawn squealed in terror. "What is that?!"

Angel ran toward Buffy's room with Cordelia close behind. When they entered the room neither was prepared for what they saw. Buffy was being helped out of bed by someone who looked like, but couldn't possibly be, Willow. Willow's hair was as black and oily as dripping pitch. Her eyes were empty, colorless and blank, white as white noise and just as devoid of any meaning or purpose. Buffy got to her feet, and although she wore a mask of confusion her health seemed excellent. Strangest of all though, was that in the corner stood a man who looked like, but couldn't possibly be, Wesley. Cordelia stared at him as though he were a ghost, and with his bleached bone hair and venom black eyes he could certainly pass for one. Buffy was the first to speak, and she didn't even seem to notice Wesley. "Willow, what's going on? What happened?"

"Warren shot you. You're fine now though." She spoke with no inflection. Cordelia remembered Willow as a girl who infused emotion into every word, thought into every expressive gesture. Now she was like the computers she used to love, unfeeling, inexpressive.

"Did he get away?"

"No." Cordelia raised a brow. That wasn't what she had heard. "He's dead."

Cordelia was only half listening. She was staring at her ghost. Even as Buffy demanded to know the whole story Cordelia stared. She wondered if maybe he really was a ghost and she was the only one that could see him. "Am I the only one freaking out about Frankenstein and her bride over here?! What the hell is going on?!" As she screamed she felt pressure building in her chest, and she wondered if she might explode. Was this what heart attacks felt like?

Willow looked at her, if those white eyes even could look. "You needn't concern yourself anymore Cordelia. Go home. Feed your baby. Buy some shoes. It will all be over soon."

The pressure grew. "What will be over soon," Buffy demanded.

Willow turned to Buffy. "Rest. It's fine. We're going to save the world." As soon as Willow finished speaking both she and Wesley vanished. The pressure disappeared from Cordelia's chest, and it was as though the strangers dressed as friends had never been there.

…

Giles almost dropped his papers when he saw her standing in the hallway of the Watcher's Council Headquarters. She was black & white and red all over. She was dripping with blood from head to toe. Blood dripped from the ends of her shiny black hair. Blood hung on the lashes over her opaque white eyes. Blood stained her clothes, her hands, her boots and above all else her face. Her face was covered in blood. "Willow," he whispered like a half-recalled prayer.

"Not you," she said like a patron discarding a merchant's wares. "Ah," She pointed behind him. Giles turned and saw Travers struck dumb by the scene. "That one." A force flew through Giles, causing him mild discomfort but hurting him not a bit, before slamming into Travers and tossing him down the hall. "What's the matter?! Does it hurt?!" Willow clenched her fist, and Travers came rushing back toward them. Giles had to sidestep out of the way.

"Willow! What are you doing? What's going on?"

Willow ignored him. She spoke only to Travers. "Was it fun for you? Did you enjoy enslaving and murdering all those little girls? Time to pay the piper old man, only the children are already dead. Now it's time for the gray rats to die, and you are the king of rats."

"Who are you to judge us child," Travers demanded while he struggled to breathe.

"I am vengeance. I burn bright with cold fire and weird dark steel. A million children weep and I hear them all. Your castle was built on a foundation made of the bone dust of all the girls you enslaved and killed and the blood of all the children you tortured. I'll knock it down."

That was when the walls began to shake. Giles ran.


	2. White

Buffy embraced her sister. For a long time she just held her. She didn't want to let go, but she knew there was work to be done and that it was the slayer's job to do it. "Okay," she said as she forced herself to end the hug. "What the hell happened while I was under?"

Xander was unable to meet her gaze. "Buffy, Warren… He didn't just shoot you."

Buffy looked at every face. Dawn looked devastated. Anya looked unsettled. Xander looked ashamed. Angel looked relieved. Cordelia looked wary. "Where's Tara?"

Dawn began to sob. "Buffy she's dead! Warren killed her!"

Buffy froze. That couldn't be. "No, he was shooting at me."

"It must have been a stray bullet," Xander said, choking on misery.

Cordelia broke into the conversation, oblivious to their pain. In a way it was oddly comforting, bringing back memories of high school and a simpler time. "What does any of this have to do with Willow's new goth look and crazy powers? She didn't just save you Buffy. She found a way to a dimension it's impossible to access and saved Angel's son. Furthermore, what the hell is she doing hanging out with Wesley? Since when are they bosom buddies?"

Xander shrugged. "You tell us," he said in a caustic tone. "He's your friend."

"Wesley is _not_ our friend." Cordelia's tone was so final and bitter Buffy wondered what Wesley must have done to her. She didn't just look angry. She looked disgusted by the mere idea that Wesley could have ever been her friend. There had to be a story there.

Buffy touched her unblemished chest where the bullet hole should have been. "Willow said that Warren is dead. We need to find out if that's true. We should also make sure Andrew and Jonathan are still in prison. Angel, we're kind of shorthanded at the moment. Would you mind helping me track Warren? Cordelia, could you go to the jail with Xander and Anya?"

"Of course we'll help," Angel said, as Buffy knew he would.

Buffy gripped Dawn's hand. "I want you to stay with a friend tonight."

Dawn shook her head. "I don't want to be alone. Can I go with Xander?"

Buffy sighed. "All right, but be careful. Listen to everything he says."

…

Giles threw open the door to the stairwell and almost collided with another man fleeing the carnage. The man spared him neither look nor thought as they ran. They never reached the ground floor, because the way was blocked by a familiar unfamiliar face. Giles didn't recognize him at first, not until the man he was fleeing with whispered his name. "Wesley,"

"Hello father." There was something wrong with Wesley's voice. He sounded like a survivor of throat cancer, speaking with one of those electronic gizmos.

"What have you gotten mixed up in boy?" He had clearly gotten mixed up in something, but Giles didn't think he would have risked that tone. Wesley had become Willow's opposite, male where she was female, dark where she was light and light where she was dark.

Wesley did not move. He only stared at his father with those inhuman dark eyes, lacking corneas or irises. Giles knew he should run, but some sick part of him had to know what was going to happen next. Wesley's father began to cough. First it was a fine spray of red mist, but soon the man was hacking up coagulated globs of hemoglobin. "Wesley stop," Giles shouted.

Wesley ignored him. "Can't kill me," the dying man insisted. "I'm your father."

Wesley still didn't move or speak. His father fell down on all fours and continued to cough up blood. Giles heard the cracking sound of breaking bones and watched the man collapse onto his chest, no longer able to support his own weight. Giles looked at Wesley, but the younger man didn't even see him, if he saw anything. Those black eyes were pointed at nothing. Giles spared one last glimpse at the dying man and then ran. He would have to find another way out of the building before it collapsed on top of him. Giles stopped when he saw a writhing man burst like a heavy water balloon, soaking Willow in more blood. She looked at him, and Giles became certain those cloudy eyes would be the last things he ever saw. Giles squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them he was outside the building. Giles looked up and saw the walls begin to crumble into dust. Giles fished in his pocket for a cell phone, and when he didn't find one he went hunting for a payphone. Buffy needed to be told about this at once.

…

Cordelia stared at the logbook. Xander was talking. She hated when he did that. He was saying something stupid too, no surprise there. "We need to find out who this Lindsey McDonald guy is, and what he could want with Andrew and Jonathan," Xander said.

"Lindsey McDonald was never here," Cordelia said in a voice dripping with malice and contempt. "That's Wesley's handwriting. I've seen it enough times to know."

"What would Wesley want with Andrew and Jonathan," Dawn asked.

"Nothing, obviously. Willow wants them. He got them for her," Cordelia said.

"Why," Xander asked.

"Vengeance," Anya said. "Why else?"

"Points for gross and veiny," Cordelia confirmed. "They're probably dead."

"Willow's not a killer," Xander insisted a little too loud for someone who believed what he was saying. "And knock it off with the disparaging nicknames please."

Cordelia started to walk out into the shadows of the parking lot. "She said she killed that Warren guy. Fred told us there was something wrong with her back at the hotel."

"She's not a killer!"

A soft voice seemed louder than his scream when Anya weighted in. "We're all killers."

Xander stared at her in shock. "What are you talking about?"

Anya's face changed. She stared at Cordelia, but Cordy felt like she wasn't being stared at, but rather being stared into. Anya's necklace was shining. "She wants to kill that man, that librarian or whatever he is." Anya looked at Xander. "You want to kill Spike."

Xander interrupted. "He's a monster! He tried to rape my friend."

Cordelia was stunned by this revelation. She was also stunned that Buffy still hadn't staked him. If Spike was still hanging out in Sunnydale he should be dead by now. All that aside however, she couldn't help but agree with Xander. "Killing monsters is sort of what we do."

Anya smiled at Cordelia with her grotesque grin. "I'm a monster."

"Anya we don't have time for this," Xander screamed. "We have to find Willow."

"I don't," Anya said. "You left me. Why should I care what happens to your friend?"

Dawn walked up to Anya and shoved her. "How could you be so selfish?!"

Anya stepped back from the girl. "I'm a demon."

Cordelia moved Dawn aside with a firm but not unkind hand so that she could stand in front of the demon. "You know where she is. You know what's going on."

Anya's face reverted to its human appearance. "There is dark magic in the air. I have tasted it before. I could follow the scent. But… when we reach the end of the trail it is doubtful there will be anything there. This magic is corrupting. It burns you out from the inside."

Xander started to panic. "We have to warn Willow."

Anya shook her head. "She knew. You can't use this magic without knowing what it does and accepting it. That's why it's so rare. The only people who seek it out are those with absolutely nothing left to lose, the people so full of rage and hate they'll gladly die bloody if they get to take their enemies down with them. They accept this magic, and then it corrupts and twists their souls into something old and evil. They die, but still walk the earth. It's… the worst fate."

For a few minutes they were all very quiet. Cordelia thought about the guy she used to bicker with, the guy with no social skills who was like a brother to her. Cordelia killed that thought. That guy was dead to her. She didn't care about him. "We have to stop them."

"We have to save Willow," Xander insisted.

Anya sighed. "You don't understand. They're already dead."

…

Angel looked up at the sky, making sure sunrise wasn't sneaking up on him. Then he looked back at the massacre. The bodies hadn't been hard to find. Even a human would have been able to smell the decay. The three boys were hard to identify as human, much less as belonging to the identities they were looking for. Buffy stood as though paralyzed, eyes roving from puddle to puddle. That was mostly what remained of them. "Willow," she whispered.

Angel couldn't imagine Willow being a part of something like this, or Wesley either for that matter. Then again, he never would have imagined Wesley kidnapping his son either, so that showed what his judgment was good for. "These guys must have been pretty evil," Angel said.

"Warren was definitely a piece of crap, but Andrew was just kind of an idiot, and Jonathan… He screwed up a lot, kind of always. He was selfish and shortsighted, but he didn't deserve to die like this. He didn't deserve to die… They were in prison when the shooting happened. They didn't have anything to do with Tara's death. I don't understand."

The somber mood was shattered by a incongruous cheerful ringtone. Buffy quickly answered to silence it. "Giles?" Buffy was silent for a few moments. Angel could hear birds singing, preparing to herald the morning. "Are you… Did she say why?" Buffy sounded like she was suffocating. Angel wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could say to make this situation any less terrible. "He killed his father? That's sick. What the hell is going on?"

Angel hated the panic in her voice. He wanted to reassure her, but he was distracted by what she said. He assumed Buffy was referring to Wesley when she spoke about somebody killing his father. Angel felt like he should be surprised, but honestly he wasn't. He remembered a taunting demon, a telekinetic girl and a weird conversation about Fred's parents. Each of those events had almost prompted Angel to say something to Wesley, but he chickened out every time with some excuse that sounded good in his head. Of course it didn't matter now. Wesley wasn't his friend anymore, so there was no reason to care about his past trauma.

"Angel?"

"Huh? What?"

Buffy gave him a sympathetic look. "Is the blood bothering you?"

Angel was overcome by a look of disgust, and he shook his head. "No vampire would drink this blood, probably not even if they were starving. It's tainted. Even if a vampire did drink this poison it would probably just make them sick. No, I… What did Giles say?"

"Willow and Wesley destroyed the Watchers' Council Headquarters. They killed dozens of people. Willow killed Travers. I never liked him, but he did help us with Glory. This is all so strange, like a bad dream. Maybe I'm in a coma, and when I wake up this whole nightmare will go away. Willow and Tara will give me a big hug and we'll laugh about my weird dream."

Angel put a hand on her shoulder. He could feel her heartbeat. "What else did Giles say?"

Buffy put her hand over his. "He's worried that if Wesley killed his dad his mom might also be in danger. He's going to warn her. But if they don't go there they could go anywhere."

…

Faith was standing in the desert face to face with the first slayer. "This is a dream."

The first slayer began to circle her. She didn't answer Faith for a long time. Faith was willing to wait. She had little else to do. The first slayer stood behind her. "It's coming."

Faith turned to meet her eyes. "What is?"

"Devourer of souls. It comes to drink our blood."

Faith looked at her hands. Cuts on her hands wept red. "I'm dripping."

The first slayer looked up at the sun. "They accept all currency now. They use ones of their own devising. They let you pay with time. When I was quick there was only one tender."

Faith held out her hand. "Blood."

The first slayer backed away. "The debt is not to me. Save it for who you owe."

Faith looked down, ashamed. "My name is a holy name." Faith didn't know why she said that, but it must have satisfied the first slayer, because when Faith looked up she was alone in her old apartment. She remembered when the mayor had gotten it for her. That was a happy memory, and she was ashamed that she treasured it still. Faith held up her hands and saw that they were bloodless and unscarred. "My name is a holy name," she whispered.

She heard a snarl behind her and whipped around to face it. Angel bore his fangs at her and advanced toward her. "Are you without sin, child of creation? Does heaven welcome you?"

Faith backed up to the open window. "I am holy in the baptismal rite." Faith fell back out of the window and let the earth take her. After that her sleep was dreamless until the lights came on in her cellblock. She remembered her dream throughout the day and meditated on it.

…

Fred hummed as she rocked the baby. She hoped Conner couldn't feel the tension in her arms that reflected the state of her entire body. Babies were supposed to be sensitive to such things. Fred gasped in relief when Groo came through the door with Lorne. "Thank goodness you're here! Where the-" Fred gently covered Conner's ears. "H-E-L-L have you been?"

Lorne smiled at her. "Isn't it redundant to spell it out and cover his ears? I don't think he can spell yet. Although he is a miracle baby, so who knows? What's the terror du jour?"

Gunn chose that moment to come in and snap his cell phone shut. "I just got off the phone with Angel. You guys are not gonna believe the shit that just hit the fan."

"Charles!" Fred hugged Conner closer to her.

Gunn rolled his eyes. "He can't understand me."

Fred scowled. "You could at least try to set a good example."

Gunn shook his head. "Do you want to know what happened or not?"

"I'm listening." And she did listen. Even when she wanted to put her hands over her ears and refuse to hear she listened. Even when she wanted to scream at Gunn to stop she listened to every damning word. "He… He killed his own father? Wesley did? Why?"

Lorne chuckled. "Good for him."

All eyes turned to Lorne. "What did you say," Gunn asked in a startled tone.

Lorne headed for the counter. "Did I say that out loud?"

Fred couldn't see his face, but Lorne sounded nervous. "Yes," she said.

Lorne rooted out a bottle of booze. "I suppose Charlie boy has lost all recollection of that fateful Queen jam session." Lorne poured himself a drink and quickly knocked it back.

"Huh," Fred asked.

Lorne locked eyes with Gunn. "Tequila? Freddy Mercury? Group hugs?"

Gunn scowled. "I remember. What of it?"

"I read you, all three of you. Something I didn't exactly advertise is that the lower your inhibitions the more I get. You were all so plastered I read your pasts like tabloid news."

Gunn frowned. "I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's bad enough the NSA is all up in my business. Now you've got a direct line into my cerebrum. That shit ain't right."

"Charles!"

Gunn flinched. "Sorry Conner. I'm working on it."

Fred turned her attention to Lorne. "What did you see?"

Lorne shook his head. "I'm pretty sure that would be a privacy violation."

Gunn scowled. "Well the guy's on a murder spree, so I don't really give a-" Gunn glanced at Conner. "Device that produces hydroelectric power." Fred gave her boyfriend a thumbs up of approval. "What did you see," Gunn continued. "If he kills someone else and we could have prevented it but didn't because you kept quiet that is blood on your hands."

Lorne gave Gunn a dark look. "The man is already as dead as he can be. You finding out what he did to his son will only serve to sate your curiosity. That's not my problem. I might sympathize with your curiosity if it came from concern, but we both know that's not the case."

"Do you have something you want to say to me Lorne?"

The demon threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Your business is your business, and I would never presume to judge you. Maybe you can learn something from that. If you want."

Fred broke into the conversation. "Please Lorne. We have no idea where Wesley might go next. People are in danger. Not just people he could hurt, but him and this Willow girl too. I know there was something evil in this hotel when she was here. What if it does something terrible to him? Please tell us what you saw." Fred felt Conner shift in her arms as if sensing the distress in her voice. She began to rock him, hoping to soothe his worries away.

Lorne gave Fred a sympathetic look. "If you don't want Conner hearing the word for a device that generates hydroelectric power, then a description of Wyndam-Pryce Senior's nocturnal activities is certainly not appropriate for him." Lorne made and downed another drink.

Fred saw Gunn looking at the floor. Was he reacting out of sorrow? Anger? Fred looked at Lorne's liquor and ached for a taste. "So that's why he killed him," she asked. "Because he…"

Gunn looked up. It was anger. "What the hell is wrong with people man?"

Lorne shrugged. "You tell me. You're a person. I fall strictly in the nonperson category."

…

Cordelia was sitting at Buffy's dining room table drinking in the awkward that was all around them. "Should we call Gunn and Fred, tell them what we found out?"

Angel shook his head. "I already called them before we met up. The only things they don't know now are that Wesley was impersonating Lindsey and that this spell will kill him."

Cordelia thought that maybe those would be good things to know, but she wasn't going to argue the point. So they returned to the awkward silence. With the sun coming up Angel was confined to Buffy's house, and there was nowhere in Sunnydale Cordelia had any desire to visit for old time's sake. So they stayed in the house with Dawn. "Maybe we should go home."

Angel shook his head.

"I could drive. We could put you under a blanket on the backseat."

Angel smirked. "You are not driving my car."

"Oh come on, you let W-" Cordelia slammed her mouth shut so fast she felt her teeth clank together. She cursed her lips for operating faster than her brain. "Never mind."

Angel clasped his hands together. "We might have to kill him," he whispered.

Cordelia shrugged. She needed no elaboration. "We might."

"And you're okay with that?"

Cordelia looked at her own hands, pretty, well-manicured. _I wanted to scratch my eyes out. Anything to make it stop. Anything to not see._ "Why wouldn't I be?"

"He was your friend."

"I'm not so sure that's true." _I know there are two people I trust, absolutely, with my life._

Angel was quiet for a while. "Do you think he did this… for Conner? To save him?"

Cordelia shrugged. "If he did, he made the right call. His soul for Conner's life? I call that a fair trade." Cordelia stood up. "I'm going to take a shower. Ugh, I bet Buffy doesn't even have any decent hair care products." Upstairs, when the water from the showerhead ran down her face, she could pretend she wasn't crying.

…

Faith was doing pull-ups in the yard when all the noise ceased at once to create an overwhelming deafening silence. She looked over her shoulder to see that all the inmates were gone, and in their place stood Red and Wes, no longer red and no longer human by the look of them. Faith dropped from the pull-up bars and landed on her feet like a cat. "Hey."

"We are here to collect our blood debt," Willow said.

"That's fair," she conceded. "Do you expect me to make it easy for you?"

Wesley looked like an old man with his white hair and skin that, like Willow's, was turning gray and wrinkled. But when he spoke he didn't sound old. He sounded ancient, primordial, inhuman. "Nothing with you has ever been easy. I'm sure you fought tooth and nail not to depart your mother's womb. And better would the world be had you won that fight."

His words cut, but Faith only smiled. "Ah Wes, you're hurting my feelings."

"We will hurt more than that," Willow shouted as she threw out her hand and sent Faith flying into the chain-link fence. Faith tasted blood on her lip. She was ashamed to feel exhilaration at the familiar sensation. This was her dance. She knew all the steps.


	3. Red

"Would you like tea Mr. Giles?"

Giles frowned at the woman. "No I… As I said I am very sorry for your loss."

"Yes well, these things do happen."

"Not uh… not very often."

"As you say, nasty business, truly. Are you sure you won't have tea?"

Giles looked around the sparse flat. There was something very wrong here. "Yes I am Mrs. Wyndam-Pryce. Is this where your son grew up?" Giles had expected tears, not this.

"Oh no. We moved when Roger transitioned out of field work. He is getting on in years, or was I should say. He took an office job, so we moved to the city."

Her calm tone and easy demeanor put Giles more and more on edge. He was beginning to wonder if this woman was under some spell. "Does Wesley know this address?"

"Do you think he is coming after me?" She didn't seem concerned by the prospect.

"It's possible," Giles said gently.

The woman shrugged. "Every parent eventually reaches the day where they must be subject to the judgment of their children. Do you have children Mr. Giles?"

"No," _Buffy._ "I never married."

She didn't seem to hear him. "One day you will be judged by your children. Do you think they will find you lacking? I was a good wife, excellent even. Roger would accept nothing less from me. When I made mistakes he corrected me, as he did for our son." The woman's words made Giles shiver. "I always learned my lessons. Still, perhaps I could have been a better mother to my boy. Parents are supposed to protect their children, aren't they? I didn't protect him."

"From the beatings," Giles guessed.

"The correction? No, you have to correct children. It was the other thing."

"What other thing?"

The woman sighed. "If Wesley is coming here to judge me there's little I can say to him."

"I can take you somewhere safe," Giles assured her.

That was not her worry. "Do not fear for me. Make sure your affairs are in order when your own children come to judge you. I did what I did, or rather didn't do. I admit it."

Giles looked away. "So you don't want any protection?"

"I think that would be hypocritical," she said. "Don't you?"

Giles couldn't really answer that.

…

Faith dodged a wave of energy from Wesley and a lightning strike from Willow. She ran from structure to structure, remembering every step. Even though she hadn't danced in years her muscle memory was intact. This was the death dance, the unforgiving song. One single misstep ended the dance. Faith leapt to the top of the monkey bars. She looked at her opponents. "I knew you were coming," she shouted at them as she swung down. "I had a dream about it. Devourer of souls she called you. What the hell happened to you two? Did a spell go awry? I can help."

Willow threw out her hands and set the air on fire. Faith was tempted to strip off her clothes and fight naked for even the slightest relief from the new heat. "Our spell worked as it was meant to," Willow explained. "Though we may die, all who wronged us will fall first."

Faith wiped away a sheen of sweat. "I thought you were the good guys."

"We aren't anything anymore," Wesley said. "We have lost everything." It was hard to pick any emotion out of that ancient whisper, but Faith's superior hearing detected what she was sure was raw aching pain. "All that is left to us is vengeance, the chance to clean a few stains from the earth before we become nothing. You are one of the filthiest we will scour."

Faith wanted to jump into the ocean to get relief from the heat. It was killing her. It was cooking her so she could be devoured by whatever was possessing her old acquaintances. Faith remembered her dream. "Are you holy? By what right do you judge me? Blood is the price for blood, and I owe you a blood debt, but I owe nothing to whatever unclean thing has made its home in your skin." Faith pulled back her hair and bared her neck. "If you would be paid collect your due yourself. Use steel. Use your own hands, as I used mine on you."

Wesley looked at Willow. She shrugged. Wesley hesitated. Every instinct in Faith's body screamed at her to run, but she waited. Faith stood like a statue as Wesley drew a knife and started to walk toward her. Faith's heart beat faster and faster as the heat wore at her resolve, pushing her to the brink of passing out. Wesley stopped in front of her and started to raise the knife, but for a moment he delayed. Faith struck like a snake, gripping the knife tight and letting it dig into her calloused hands. "Here, let me help you." Faith let go and raised her red dripping hands to Wesley's face. "My name is a holy name," Faith whispered. "This is the baptismal rite."

Wesley fell to his knees and screamed. His eyes flashed from black to blue and back again in quick succession. His skin returned to its normal beige tone where her blood had touched him. Willow rushed toward them. Faith bit hard on the inside of her cheek and let her mouth fill with blood. When Willow was in range Faith spat in her face. Willow dropped to her own knees and began to wail. Wesley started swiping at his face, but soon gave up when the action only changed the color of his hands. "You bitch!" Willow's scream echoed throughout the prison yard. "What have you done to us?!" Willow tore a swatch of cloth from her dress and tried to use that to clean the blood from her face. "We're going to kill you!"

Faith raised her left hand and dug the fingers of her right into the cut, deepening it and producing more blood. Faith stepped up to Wesley. He caught her by surprise when he lashed out and grabbed her ankle, pulling her off her feet. Faith fell onto her back, and before she could rise her opponent was on her with his hands around her throat. An animalistic growl escaped his throat as he choked her. "I'm older than you slut," the monster said. "I walked the earth before your mother crawled from the ooze. Your kin made sacrifices to me. My children drank you in a thousand of your past lives. Your holy blood will burn with all the rest."

Faith pushed her left hand against his face and gripped his throat with her right. He reeled back, snarling. Willow gripped his shoulder. "In time slayer," she said. Then they were gone.

Faith panted for air. She tried to wipe sweat from her face and then remembered, too late, that her hands were covered in blood. Blood and sweat coated her skin. Faith looked up at the sun and thought about taking a nap, right here and right now, under the great giver of life resting in the sky. Faith shook off the thought. She couldn't stay here. Faith's mangled hands gripped the fence and she began to climb, ignoring the clanging alarms that started up.

…

Willow stood inside the burnt out skeleton of her old high school. Wesley was wiping frantically at his face with clean cloth. Willow could see him somewhat. When the magics fully enveloped her she did not see as humans did. She felt the energies produced by the parts of the earth before her. Now she sensed the energies still, but she also saw splashes of color and a few vague shapes. The darkness of what was once her school soothed the pain her vision was causing her. They could wait here until the effects of the slayer's attack wore off. Willow braced herself against the ash-coated wall. She leaned her head against it and closed her eyes. That only made things worse. Now she saw memories. This building was saturated with them. She opened her eyes before the memories could catch her. "Are you okay," she whispered to Wesley.

"I feel… I feel. I thought we wouldn't anymore. There was supposed to be no more guilt or longing or… It's all still here." Wesley placed his hands over his ears. "They're here."

"It was the slayer," Willow assured him. "It will wear off."

Wesley shook his head. "Even before… There was a moment when I wasn't sure if I could slit her throat. I was thinking about how Angel believed in her and she was trying…"

Willow kicked a hole through the brittle wall. "That doesn't matter! None of them matter anymore!" Willow sank to her knees. "They forsook us. They used us, and they took everything from us. They wanted us to be weak. I could have been powerful, but they scorned me and told me to stop. Now Tara is dead because of me! I could have saved her if I were stronger! I could have been powerful enough! Buffy thinks because she is the chosen one only she can save the world, but we'll show her! We will root out the evil! We will kill them all!" Willow grabbed a handful of ebony hair in each hand. "Damn them! Damn them! Damn them all!" She tugged.

Wesley responded with a cold crackling whisper. "I just wanted to save them. I loved them as I had never loved before. I didn't even think I could love until I met them. I was willing to give them up though, if I could keep them safe and keep blood off of their hands."

Willow ran her fingers through her hair. "They made us love. We can't forgive that."

Wesley shook his head. "I never shall."

Willow stood up. "I will be back." One moment she was in the school. The next she was in the county morgue. She walked up to a silver drawer. She could see the energy there, but she could also see the vague shapes spelling **Maclay, Tara**. Willow gripped the handle. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, letting memories fill her. "I'm sorry. I know you are in heaven. It is wrong to take you, I know. You shouldn't forgive me, I know. But I am already unforgivable."

Willow yanked the drawer open, and a naked woman gasped.

…

Fred watched Gunn put Conner down for his nap. She smiled. It was a pretty picture in the middle of all this unpleasantness. She would be glad when Angel and Cordelia returned from Sunnydale. She didn't like when their group was separated. It was bad enough Wesley… Fred went downstairs. Groo was nowhere around, but Lorne was sitting on the couch. He turned to look at her when she entered the lobby. He gave her a weak smile. "You okay Fredikins?"

Fred shook her head. "I wish things were different."

A voice came from behind her, causing Lorne to jump to his feet and Fred to spin around and back away. "Don't we all?"

Fred's eyes widened. "Wesley? Oh God, your face…"

Wesley's smile didn't reach his black eyes flecked with blue. His skin was a mottled mess of gray and beige. He could have been tattooed with the most uninspired disorganized fool's motley ever devised. "Do I repulse you," he rasped.

Fred shook her head emphatically. "No, no," _Yes._ "What happened to you?"

"I went to the darkest of dark worlds and hunted my enemy. I tossed him about like a rag doll, I cut him to pieces and I burned the sin from him. I delivered him still living to your feet as a cat presents a bird to his masters. Are you sure you are not repulsed by me?"

Fred shivered. "Wesley, let us help you."

Wesley laughed. It hurt her ears. "You don't understand. I'm helping you. Willow and I are going to save the world. You don't have to do anything. Just enjoy the peace to come."

Fred rubbed her dimpling arms. "What are you going to do?"

Wesley smiled again, and she thought she saw sharp canines. Lorne spoke up. "Wes, pal, you're sick. You need our help. This spell can kill you. Your aura is diseased friend."

Wesley tilted his head like a dog, or an alien. "I am powerful."

"This kind of power isn't for humans," Lorne cautioned gently.

"I'm not human," Wesley said in the voice of one pointing out the obvious.

"Well course you are Wes," Fred said with a nervous chuckle.

Wesley stepped closer to her and she backed up on instinct. "Who are you talking to?"

Fred glanced at Lorne, but he appeared just as confused as she was. "You, Wesley."

This time she was sure she saw fangs. "He's dead, or near enough. His soul is shattering into pieces, and I'm burning every one I find. There's barely enough left of him to keep me from snapping your pretty little neck." Fred saw Gunn sneaking down the stairs hefting a sharp ax.

"I don't believe you. You saved Conner."

Wesley shook his head. "He was still mostly him then. Now it's mostly me."

"And who are you," Fred demanded despite her fear.

"I am old. I am the first eater of flesh. They have called me many things."

Gunn swung his ax. Wesley didn't even turn to face him. He didn't need to. The ax melted before it ever touched him. Gunn was thrown back. Gunn's body hit the stairs with a terrible thump. Then Wesley finally turned as Gunn struggled to his feet.

"No," Fred screamed as Wesley descended on Gunn. She reached in her pocket for the only weapon on her person. She knew it was doubtful holy water would have any effect, but she had to do something. Fred threw the vial at Wesley. It shattered on contact, cutting his skin as well as drenching it. When the water touched his blood smoke filled the air and he screamed.

Lorne covered his ears. "What did you do?!"

Wesley was writhing on the ground, filling the air with his inhuman shrieking. The gray was leaving his skin, and his eyes were turning blue. His blood turned to red smoke and filled the air with something none of them wanted to inhale. Fred ran around him to help Gunn to his feet and then tugged him upstairs. "We have to get Conner," she shouted. The couple ran for the infant's room. Groo was running down the hall toward them. "Get the baby," she shouted at him.

All three of them ended up reaching the room at the same time. Fred gathered the baby into her arms. Gunn wrapped an arm around her and ushered her toward the stairs. The screams died all at once. Fred realized the baby was crying. The screams had been so loud she hadn't heard Conner's weeping. Now her ears were ringing. Down the stairs they saw Wesley huddled up against the handrail. Lorne was staring at him wearily, probably trying to decide if it was safe to approach. Gunn removed his arm from Fred's shoulder and approached Wesley. Fred noticed that his hair was still white. Wesley looked up. "Are you going to kill me now?"

If Fred had to name Gunn's expression she would have gone with sore tempted, but before she could voice an objection Gunn shook his head. "Naw Wes, I'm not gonna do that."

Wesley chuckled. "You'll regret that."

"Maybe." Gunn extended a hand to help Wesley up.

…

When Cordelia heard Buffy's door open she assumed the slayer had returned home. But the voice she heard was not one she recognized. "B-B-Buffy!"

As Cordelia ran downstairs Dawn came sprinting past her. Both arrived in the living room to find Angel staring at a girl in a white hospital gown. "Tara," Dawn whispered.

Cordelia shot Angel a look. "She's not a vampire or a zombie," he said. "As near as I can tell she's alive." Cordelia didn't know whether to find that encouraging or not.

Dawn was clearly satisfied. She ran to the woman and enveloped her in a hug. Cordy saw that Tara had a sweet face and that it was covered in tears. "Dawny, my Dawn."

Dawn hugged her tighter. "What happened?"

They broke the embrace. Tara wiped tears from her face. "I was dead. I don't know how long, but when I woke up I saw Willow. My sweet Willow. What did she do? Oh Dawny, she was in so much pain. Her aura was being stripped away. There was a demon inside her."

"Do you know where she went," Cordelia asked.

Tara shook her head. "Something happened to the demon. Someone hurt its other half."

"Other half," Cordelia asked.

"This demon is so powerful it needs more than one host. It was already injured. When the other host was weakened the demon started screaming. It was in so much pain. It became so furious, like a rabid wolf. I think Willow was afraid it would hurt me. She teleported away."

Cordelia locked eyes with Angel. "Wesley," she said.

Cordelia's phone began to ring. She had a feeling she knew who it was and what they were about to say. The caller ID said Baldy, so she was one for two. "What is it Gunn?"

"First off, tell Angel to turn on his phone, or probably charge it."

Cordelia shot Angel a look of disgust. "Wes showed up?"

"Yeah, we locked him up, but someone else is here too."

"Willow? Yeah, no surprise there. Listen, we-"

"No not Willow. She says her name is Faith."

Cordelia felt the familiar surge of rage that always accompanied that name. "Faith, the Vampire Slayer? That Faith? The psycho bitch who likes stabbing and should be in prison?"

"Let me check." There was silence for a moment. "Yeah, she says that's her."

Cordelia hung up. She was too furious to keep talking. She located the closest possible target for her rage. "You!" She pointed at Angel. "Charge your damn phone!"

"What happened? Is Conner okay? What's going on with Faith?"

"Conner's fine." Cordelia headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Buffy. I need her to kick someone's ass for me."

…

Willow wriggled and whimpered. It was too much. The other vessel was damaged. Only a small part of the essence remained in him. The rest fled to her. She was burning, burning with cold fire. It was consuming her. She wasn't sure she would survive long enough for Wesley to be able to take back his part of the essence. She wasn't sure it wanted her to survive. Willow looked up at her surroundings. She saw them in part by sensing the energy and in part with the eyes that refused to stop working. She wished they would turn off the lights. Every bulb in the room shattered at once. That was better. Now she only had to shut the window. "If you wanted us to turn the lights off, all you had to do was ask." Lilah pulled the curtain shut. "Anything else?"

"Is Tara all right?"

"I wouldn't worry about that. Soon you'll be beyond such things. You will be a predator that hunts and devours. You will be a king. You will be a god. Don't you want that?"

Willow hugged her knees to her chest. The pain was terrible. She was going to explode into little Willow bits. She should never have done this. She should never have dragged Wesley into this. Although to be fair no one was being dragged. They both wanted to do the spell. They were both so hungry for revenge, and they both hated themselves enough to pay the highest price for it. Willow began to cry. "I want to take it back. I want to be Willow again."

Lilah knelt in front of her. "You are going to be so much more. You will be the Wolf."

…

Wesley stared at his shackled wrists. "It'll come back you know."

Even without looking he could sense Lorne seated a few metres from him. He could sense with greater difficulty Fred, Gunn and Faith in the lobby. He could sense Groo with Conner on a higher floor. He sensed Lorne shift in his seat. "I know. I see it inside you."

"When it comes back these chains won't hold me."

"I know that too."

"So why don't you kill me?"

Lorne sighed. "Is that what you want Wes? Is that why you did this?"

"I wanted to hurt my enemies. Dying was just a bonus."

Lorne stood up and walked over. He put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Are we your enemies, Wes?" Lorne's hand was meant as a comforting gesture, but it only hurt.

"You are not my enemy, but apparently I was yours. One of you should have told me."

Lorne chuckled without mirth. "Self-pity doesn't suit you Wes."

Wesley shrugged off Lorne's hand. "You think you know me because you peaked at my aura a few times? You don't know anything about me. Kill me quick or leave me be. Off all my possible deaths, being talked to death is the one I would least prefer." Wesley sensed Lorne retake his seat, and silence built up between them like a thick and heavy wall. It was soothing.


	4. Gray

Faith pulled one leg into her lap and left the other to dangle while she sat on the couch listening to Gunn and Fred's story. Fred had been kind enough to bind up her hands for her, and a few minutes in front of the sink had cleansed her face of sweat and blood. Now all she needed to do was listen. It was a welcome change from running. Faith whistled. "You guys have been getting into all kinds of trouble while I was away. You're making me appreciate the big house."

Gunn scowled. "Trouble seems to find us."

Faith smiled. "That's just an excuse. People like us, we look for trouble."

"Us," the petite pretty girl asked.

"Not you tiny Texan terror. You look sweet enough. I mean fighters. I know the look when I see it. We love the battle. When we're not starting it we're standing in the corner looking mean as hell praying for someone to mess with us. Trouble finds us because we sent it our address and an open invitation." Faith grinned at the strangers as she rubbed her swollen calf.

Gunn glared at her. "That's not me."

Faith shrugged. "My mistake."

Fred looked at the ceiling. "Do you have an idea for what we could do?"

Faith slipped off the sofa like silk. "I guess I talk to Wes."

"He tried to kill you," Gunn said. "Is that a good idea?"

"It's never a good idea to try to kill a badass like me."

"No, I meant is it a good idea to go near him?"

Faith grinned. "I stand by my answer." Faith left Fred and Gunn downstairs to process the new information they'd received. She headed for Wes' room. Faith barged in without knocking and dismissed Lorne. "Move it green genes. I need to talk with my watcher," she said.

Lorne stood up. "How could I deny such a polite request?"

Faith shrugged. "You really can't."

Lorne gave her a suspicious look. "Give me a few bars."

"Come again?"

"Sing something, so that I know your intentions."

Wesley laughed. "If Faith is here to kill me there is hardly anything you're capable of doing to stop her. Go on. I'm eager to see how hunters react to being hunted."

Lorne hesitated, but he left without further protest. Faith flipped his chair around and pulled it closer to Wesley. She straddled the chair and leaned on the backrest, putting her face decimeters from his. "Are you sure you should get so close," he asked without looking up.

"Your friends say you're off your rocker," Faith said.

"They aren't my friends," Wesley said.

"Yeah, I got that vibe. What happened to you?"

"What does it matter to you?" He still refused to look at her.

"Something doesn't jive with me," she explained. "I know you better than anybody-"

"Is that right," he interrupted.

"It is. I tortured you Wes. It doesn't get much more intimate than that."

He snickered. "Live with a man 40 years. Share his house, his meals. Speak on every subject. Then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man." Wesley looked at her at last. His pupils were huge. His face was expressionless.

"Who said that?"

"Shan Yu," he explained.

"I know you," she said. "I know who you really are."

"So who am I?"

"You're the guy who always has to be right, because you usually are. You're the guy who thinks the line between good and evil is firm and distinct, and you believe everyone gets to pick which side to be on. You're the guy who is all about the mission, because if you don't have the mission then you're nothing. Am I doing okay so far, or do you need to cut in?"

Wesley blinked. She thought his pupils were a little smaller. "I did lose the mission."

"Is that so?"

"I'm a traitor," he explained. "I betrayed my friends. I was arrogant and selfish."

"Arrogant? Absolutely. Selfish? I don't think so. You're one of the most selfless people I have ever met. Word to the wise, selfish people don't sell their souls to fix their past mistakes."

Wesley looked away. "Well it doesn't matter anymore."

"It does to me," Faith said.

"Why?"

"I owe you a blood debt."

"You paid it," he said in what she was sure was meant as a dismissal.

"I haven't even covered the interest yet, but I will."

He glared at her. "No one is asking you too."

"That doesn't matter. I'm going to save you and Willow, and when I'm done if Buffy wants to kill me or throw me back in jail I'll let her. Though she'd only be hurting herself."

"You can't save us," Wesley insisted. "You can only delay the inevitable."

"We'll see Wes."

…

Willow closed her eyes. She was running in the plains. They were all screaming, weeping and begging. She didn't care. They were her meal. They were her subjects, her worshippers and her sustenance. She built a mountain of their bones and slept atop it. She performed dark magics with their blood. _They mean to cast us out. We will be barred from this dimension and spend millennia in the nothing. We must act now. We must have souls to tide us over for the long day._

Willow cried. She knew what she had to do. She had to do it now, while her will was her own for however brief a time. She blinked and was in Buffy's living room. She heard people screaming and for a moment she was on the plains again. _Are we going hunting crying tree?_

"Help me. It wants to kill you. You have to kill me first. It wants to come back and rule this dimension again. You have to stop it. Please, please stop it." Willow reached out, but her different senses were confusing each other. Where was Buffy? "Help me! Help me!"

Then she was burning, burning. The Wolf was screaming, screaming. _Your friends cannot stop us. We have been preparing to return since our expulsion. We have been collecting and storing souls. Our dimension is full of them, and our power is unparalleled by any demon that is or ever was. One little chosen one and her clique cannot stop us. Your soul is mine!_

Willow screamed. "Get it out! Get it out!"

Someone was talking. "Omnis spiritus immunde. In nomine dei."

 _An exorcism? Pathetic. Do you think God cares about you?_

Willow opened her eyes. Vague shapes and splashes of color. Goldilocks was holding a vial of clear liquid. In a moment of inspiration Willow snatched it from her and imbibed the contents before anyone could stop her. It hurt. Willow had never known such pain. The cold fire grew hot. The parts of her that had gone numb were now raw and exposed. She was being flayed from the inside, like she had flayed Warren from the outside. "I confess! I confess! I murdered human beings. I played God. I had no right. No right! I repent! I repent! Forgive me."

Arms were wrapped around her. A soothing whisper was in her ear. "It's almost over."

"Forgive me." Willow wept and wept.

"You are forgiven. You are going to be okay. We love you."

Willow blinked. Xander was holding her. Tara was kneeling behind her rubbing circles on her back. Angel was standing against the wall avoiding the cross in Buffy's hand while Cordelia read Latin out of a book. Anya was watching while Dawn hid behind her. Willow could still feel the Wolf fighting inside her. It was getting weaker. Dread seized her. "Wait. Don't finish it yet." She was too late. The Wolf fled for her other vessel. Willow went limp, exhausted.

…

Faith felt the demon when it entered the room. Its presence filled one plane. It wasn't the physical plane, but it was one Faith had a slight connection to. She jumped to her feet while drawing a knife. Her slayer reflexes were as finely tuned as ever. Nevertheless the demon was able to outdraw her. There was an explosion of force in the room. Furniture was reduced to splinters and Faith was sent careening through the door. Faith felt the sharp edges of the wood tear into her tender flash. Faith rolled over and leapt to her feet. She turned and faced the demon wearing Wesley like a suit. His hair was the color of frozen mountaintops. His eyes were the color of obsidian, but without the pleasant shine. His skin was gray and wrinkled as though someone had run it through the wash too many times. Faith smiled. "If that's how I'm going to look when I get over the hill I sure do hope I die young. Even I couldn't pick someone up if I looked that gnarly." Faith rolled her shoulders. She was lucky they weren't dislocated.

The demon growled. "Old age is one thing you will never have to worry about slut."

Faith heard pounding footsteps. "Don't come in here! I got this! Just go!" The footsteps stopped, but she didn't hear them running away. They were hesitating in the hall. "Get out now!"

She heard them leave. "Noble," the demon said.

"Nah," she said. "I'm just selfish. I don't like to share my fun."

"Oh slayer, this will not be fun for you," the demon promised.

Faith kicked her knife away. "You don't get it." Faith gripped her elbows and then scratched long rivets down her arms. Blood welled up and coated her hands, filling the spaces under her nails, staining her skin. "I'm a monster too. So let's go, all in. Winner takes the pot."

The demon laughed. "I will almost be sad to see you go. You remind me of my sister."

…

Lilah felt a hand on her shoulder. She soon had a knife at her assailant's throat, that insignificant annoyance Gavin. She lowered her blade. "You shouldn't sneak up on people."

Gavin rubbed his neck. "Duly noted."

"Grow up. I didn't even cut you."

"Linwood wants to see you."

Lilah put her knife away. "Took a second job at a messenger service?"

Gavin scowled. "I'd hurry if I were you."

"Well you aren't me, to your great misfortune." Lilah didn't wait for his response.

Linwood was waiting for her in his office. "Ah, Lilah. Do you have an update for me?"

Lilah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "The Wolf has not settled on a vessel yet."

"What is taking so long?"

"Would you like to ask her sir?" _Please do. I would love to watch you get your throat torn out by a feral witch. That plus getting your job would really make my year._

Linwood scowled. "Don't be stupid Lilah. I doubt it would take kindly to that."

"Of course sir. Anything else?"

"I just want to make sure the second there is a development you report directly to me."

"Of course sir. I will be sure to do that."

Linwood gave her a suspicious once-over with his eyes. "That's it then."

Lilah gave him a deferential nod and started to go, but she stopped. "Oh, while I'm here, I did have one question for you." Lilah stepped closer to her boss. "The Wolf knows that I recruited the witch and the watcher. The Wolf knows that I did all the leg work slipping them references to the spell to summon her and denying them materials related to other avenues they could have explored. The Wolf knows I did all the work and took all the risk. So when she finds out I killed you," Lilah drove her knife into his throat. "Do you think she'll care?" Lilah pulled the knife, drawing him a red grin under his chin. Arterial blood sprayed onto her suit.

Linwood tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was blood. Lilah pulled out her knife and stepped back. Linwood's body collapsed onto his desk. He was caught in a prolonged spasm for a moment and then fell still. Blood spilled down the desk like a waterfall.

"Yeah, I don't think so either. Thanks for your input."

After Lilah left the office she had the good fortune to run into Gavin. "Lilah?! What…"

"Gavin, perfect. I need you to clean up a mess in my office."

"I don't take orders from you," Gavin said in an indignant whine.

"Are you sure about that?" When she looked into his eyes she saw that he wasn't sure at all, and he wasn't going to take the risk. He started toward her old office. "Gavin," Lilah pointed toward Linwood's office. "It's that way. Bring a mop. I want the whole room spotless."

"Yes mam."

…

Faith was always a fighter, a scrapper. She used to roll around in the mud and pull girls' braids or poke at boys' eyes. She used to steal lunchboxes. She used to push kids off the top of the slide and the monkey bars. She would come home dirty to an answering machine displaying the flashing red light. Sometimes mom slapped the shit out of her. Sometimes the boyfriend of the week did. It wasn't because of the messages. They so rarely checked that thing that it was easy to delete the messages before they were heard. When you spend all your days high or wasted checking the answering machine dropped to the bottom of the priority list. No, they hit her because she was dirty, or disrespectful, or some other poor excuse. Then one day Faith's mother went to hit her and Faith caught her fist. Faith's mother never hit her again. Every now and then a boyfriend tried, but they never came around again after the attempt, not even after they were able to walk again. When Faith became a slayer she learned how to throw a punch, and that made her a good fighter. The thing is though, that you didn't have to know how to hit in order to be a fighter. You had to know how to dole out hits to be a good fighter, but to be a fighter you only had to know how to take a hit. Faith learned that lesson long before she received the call. Faith had been a fighter almost her entire life. So she knew she could take any punch that this bitch could dole out. That was why she knew that she was going to win.

Faith took blow after blow. She felt things inside her tear and crack, but she didn't let that hinder her. She clawed at her opponent. She landed hit after hit, but only when she broke Wesley's skin did the demon seem perturbed by her attacks. She scratched at her opponent like some feral thing. A hit landed on her jaw, and she felt that bone fracture. Another strike was delivered atop the first one. Her teeth were coated in blood. She grabbed Wesley's jacket and pulled the demon toward her. She bit the creature on the neck. She felt herself be thrown down the hall. The demon was hissing with pain. "You never give up, do you?"

"I've been told my obstinacy is one of my more endearing traits." Faith struggled to breathe through the pain. "Of course there isn't exactly any stiff competition for that title."

"We shouldn't be fighting slayer. You would thrive in our world."

"A world run by demons?"

"A world ruled by the strong." Faith stared into those black eyes and for a moment saw a great wolf with black fur. That wolf was her. "In this world you are weighted down by pointless morality and petty sentimentality. In our world people would worship you. For the privilege of drawing your eye they would relinquish everything to you. You would wear the finest clothes, eat the finest foods and take the finest bodies. They would be your slaves for the faint hope you would keep them from being something's meal. Don't you want that Faith? Isn't that your due?"

Faith shook her head. "I'm not like you. I don't want to be a god."

Wesley's face was contorted into a sneer. "What do you want?"

Faith felt the fire where her body was broken open. She felt the pain that screamed wrong to her, screamed that her body had lost its proper shape. Everything hurt. But her desire was not an end to her suffering anymore than it was riches or worship. "What do I want? Absolution."

"Then ready yourself for death."

Someone rushed the demon. He was fast and did not hesitate. "No," Faith screamed, but he did not heed her. A sword was thrust toward Wesley's body, but of course the blade never actually touched him. The demon sensed the attack and shattered the sword with magic while it was being swung. "Run!" Of course the man did not listen. Faith tried to remember his name.

The man drew a long sharp knife. "Die foul beast!"

He was Cordelia's boyfriend, right? "Get out of here!"

The knife by some force other than the man's power flew up and skewered him through the throat. "I found that man to be a tedious annoyance," the demon said.

This was her one shot. Faith jumped on Wesley's back. His skin was slick to the touch like some kind of snake or lizard. His body was radiating an awful cold, but the longer her exposure to it the warmer she felt. Her hands were slippery with sweat, and she knew when the demon tried to throw her off she would go flying. Faith wrapped her arms around Wesley's throat and dug her nails under his skin. Her blood burned him. The smell was awful, and the feel of his tainted blood was akin to the texture of rotting compost. She held on for dear life and let the blood flowing out of her flow onto and into him. The demon screamed with rage, pain and (Faith dearly hoped) fear. "You are not welcome here! Get out!" One moment Faith was burning the demon out of Wesley, and the next she was a heap on the floor. The demon had fled.

Faith struggled to her feet. She hadn't finished. The demon was still inside Wesley, and by now they could be anywhere. Faith put a hand on the wall to steady herself. She had failed to complete her mission, and Cordelia's boyfriend was dead. "Damn it!" Faith raised her hand to slam it against the wall, but instead she toppled to the floor. Unconsciousness took her.

…

Cordelia kept a weary eye on Willow, even as the Scooby gang crowded her with hugs and reassurances. Angel hung back, but even he seemed relieved. The only one who seemed to share Cordelia's skepticism was Anya. She watched the proceedings with an air of resignation and defeat about her. "I'm okay," Willow assured a weeping Dawn. "I'm going to be fine."

"No, you are not," Anya interjected.

"Not now Anya," Xander said.

"When would be a good time to point out that the demon will almost certainly return for Willow and no doubt slaughter us all for taking her. That demon needs Willow. She's not safe."

"So we just have to kill it," Buffy said.

"Oh is that all," Cordelia said with a voice dripping sarcasm. "Should be a cakewalk."

"I don't know how easy it is to walk on pastries," Anya said. "I imagine not very due to the fact one's feet would surely sink through the soft texture. Regardless, killing a demon this powerful will be much, much more difficult. It is almost certain we will all die in the attempt."

"Awesome," Cordelia said. "I was just thinking my life isn't crappy enough."

Tara stood up, but she kept a hand on Willow's shoulder. "I don't care how scary this demon is. We're going to stop it. We can't let it get anywhere near Willow ever again."

"Sweet as that is," Cordelia said. "From where I'm standing Willow brought this on herself, and committed mass murder like twelve hours ago. She's hardly an innocent victim."

"Cordelia," Angel warned.

"That wasn't her fault! She was possessed!" Xander glared at Cordelia.

"No," Willow whispered. "It was my fault. Every time I killed I gave her more power over me. I knew it was wrong, but I chose to do it anyway. I was so angry."

"Why were you angry at the Watchers' Council," Angel asked.

Willow shook her head. "Wesley was. I mean I was too, after he told me about all those girls they murdered. Most slayers don't make it to eighteen, but the ones that do are killed, because the council figures younger girls are easier to control. That test Giles was fired for trying to help Buffy with, it isn't supposed to be a test. Some slayers pass because it has to be believable as a test, but the truth is it's designed to kill. Most watchers don't know."

Cordelia had a hard time believing that. It seemed strange to her that a group dedicated to fighting evil would be fine with the callous murder of children. Sure, they had no problem trying to put Faith down like a rabid dog, but Faith was psychotic. Then again, the way Angel had told the story to her later they hadn't seemed concerned with the possibility of Buffy getting caught in the crossfire. Cordelia decided it didn't matter. The demon was their priority right now.

Buffy seemed to come to the same conclusion. "Let's table that for now. We need to focus on the matter at hand. Willow, do you have any idea where the demon went?"

Willow nodded. "It's in the other vessel now. It's in Wesley."

"He's locked down at-" Angel began.

"Not anymore," Willow said. "Not with the Wolf inside him."

"Hold the phone," Cordelia said. "Did you say the Wolf?!"

"Like Wolfram & Hart," Angel asked.

Willow nodded. "They helped us find the spell."

Cordelia clenched her fist in frustration. "We are so screwed."

…

Fred stared at the Hyperion. The noise had died, and the strange electric feeling that had been radiating from the hotel was gone now. Fred made a decision. Fred thrust Conner into Lorne's arms. "I'll be right back," she told him before starting toward the entrance.

Gunn grabbed her arm. "The hell you will."

Fred yanked her arm from his grip. "Faith could be hurt. We have to help her."

"Look, we don't even know that Faith chick. There's a demon in there-"

"It's gone, can't you tell?"

"There's no way to know that for sure," Gunn insisted.

"No, she's right," Lorne said.

Gunn scowled at the demon. "Fine, I'll go."

"That's your prerogative," Fred said. "I'm going to help Faith." Fred turned her back on her boyfriend and headed inside. She was furious. Gunn was treating her like a child. She heard him following her and grew angrier. Who did he think he was? She didn't need anyone telling her what she could or could not do. She was a grown woman. Fred's self-indulgent thoughts fled her mind when she saw Groo and Faith. She gasped and ran toward the two prone forms.

Gunn knelt next to Groo. "Damn. He's gone."

Fred felt for a pulse on Faith. "She's alive. Help me get her…" Fred picked up Faith's hand and examined the paper-thin moist material stuck to her arms. It was gray skin. The skin must have come from Wesley, but it looked anything but human. "Help me with her."


	5. Blue

Faith stared at the ceiling in her cell. "You would think you'd spent enough time here the past two years. Why would you want to revisit it in your dreams?"

Faith sat up and hung her legs off the bunk. She grinned. "Hey Buffy."

Buffy gave her a warm smile. "Hey Faith."

Faith patted the spot next to her on the top bunk. "Come sit."

Buffy sat next to Faith and brushed a few raven locks behind her ear. "I'm proud of you."

A tear escaped Faith's eye. "I failed."

Buffy thumbed the tear away. "You only fail when you give up."

Faith blinked to reign in her tear ducts. "Am I dying?"

Buffy placed a hand on the back of Faith's head and pushed their foreheads together, sharing her air with her counterpart, breathing in the scent of her. "We are all dying young one."

Faith could feel Buffy's skin so close to her. She felt warm. Buffy gave off feelings of home and belonging. "I wanted to be you. I wanted you to be me. We are meant to be one."

"All things have a reason. The world needed two, and you and she were strong enough to bear the separation. I am sorry for your suffering, but it had to be this way. Try to understand."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You have to fight one of our oldest enemies, but you will not have to be alone. This is our gift to you. We made champions for you to lead. There is a vampire with a soul, a seer with demon blood and a woman who walks between worlds. There are also two more. We did not anticipate them, but they may prove to be of the greatest use to you. These people will help you fight our ancient adversaries. You must lead them." Buffy ran her fingers through Faith's dark hair and placed a hand against Faith's wet cheek. "Protect the miracle child. Find the way."

"What way," Faith whispered.

"You must wake now young one."

"Wait," Faith begged. "What about Buffy?"

"She has another battle, another enemy. Do not fear. You will always help each other, for your bond is deeper than blood. In another life you were one soul." Buffy kissed Faith's brow.

Faith opened her eyes. Various parts of her body were bound up in gauze. A woman was sitting in a chair next to her bed. It was the skinny Texan, Fred. Fred smiled. "Hey, you're up."

Faith looked around. They were still in the hotel. "Where is he?"

"Wesley?" Fred looked so sad when she said the name.

"Yes," Faith answered.

"We don't know," Fred said. "Everyone is on their way here though, so you just rest up and when Angel and Cordy get here we'll come up with a plan. Everything will be okay."

Faith laughed. Her body felt like one painful throbbing bruise, and it hurt to move in even the slightest way. Laughter was excruciating. Still, she laughed. "Is misplaced optimism a coping mechanism for you, or is it an essential part of your personality?" Faith felt agony in her chest.

"I could ask the same thing about your snippy quips," Fred answered.

Faith smiled. "I'm always that way," Faith assured her.

Fred returned the smile. "Me too, with the optimism I mean."

Faith stared at her bandages. "Thanks for patching me up."

"What you did was really brave," Fred said. "Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you." Faith wasn't trying to be mean. She was just being honest about her intentions. "I owe Wesley. I did it for him." Faith swallowed. "I'm sorry about…"

"Groo," Fred supplied. "His name was Groo, and it wasn't your fault."

Faith wasn't so sure about that. "Well I'm sorry about Groo."

Fred placed a hand on top of Faith's. "Get some rest."

Faith had to admit that was a good idea.

…

Wesley could feel… something. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew it was a thing of excruciating pain. He was tempted to retreat into the cold fire deeper inside, but on some level he knew that was death. Though the frigid flames were painless he knew that they devoured the parts of him that were him, his soul. Wesley tried to remember why that was bad. He swam closer to the surface, where the lights were blinding and every sensation was excruciating.

"Bring the witch to me. I was unable to finish consuming her soul. The process cannot be completed until I have devoured them both. It must be soon. I must have her while he still is."

"She will be yours. I delivered her to you once. I will again."

"Do it soon. If I must return home I will do it with you between my teeth."

 _Are you eavesdropping on me watcher? What do you hope to accomplish by prolonging your fate? It will hurt less if you sleep. Sleep until oblivion takes you. The pain will be far less._

Wesley was tempted. It did hurt up here. The voices were like guns, firing words at him that tore through his head leaving a wake of agony. The lights burned. The smells were nauseating and ubiquitous. In the cold fire he was numb. He could go back and sleep.

 _Rest. Forget. Die. Don't you want that?_

He did. So much. But Wesley had never gotten what he wanted before. Why should things be any different now? He swam closer to the surface, where everything was heavy and more painful than he could bear. He kept swimming. He had to. This was his job, to watch.

…

Cordelia stared at her dead lover. Was she cursed? She felt cursed. Half of the guys she had feelings for turned out evil, and the other half turned out dead. The only outlier was Xander, who was, well, Xander. He couldn't exactly be counted as a success. Besides, with the life he led he could die at any moment. There was a part of her who still loved him. That was probably why she hated him so much. She had found in life that it was hard to really truly hate someone unless you loved them first. Hate was an intimate emotion like that. Take Wesley for example. She had tried to convince Angel that they were never friends, but she knew he hadn't bought that for a single moment. Cordelia and Wesley had been more than friends. He was her geeky older brother who would do anything for her. She would have done anything for him. Now she hated him more than she had ever hated anybody. If he had only told her about the prophecy…

"Cordy," Fred said tentatively from behind her, probably standing in the doorway.

"What is it Fred?" Cordelia spoke in a whisper.

"Willow has an idea."

"Well considering some of her recent ideas I guess we should all put on Kevlar and bolt down the furniture." Cordelia turned around. She hated the expression of pity on Fred's face.

"I'll tell them you're busy."

"You will do no such thing. Someone has to reestablish order around here." Cordelia stormed out of the room. She was thinking about Groo's tender touches and the way he somehow always seemed to find a new quality of hers to admire. She was weeping on the inside, but on the outside she wore the face of a queen with the mantle of vicious bitch draped over her shoulders.

…

Willow stood in Wesley's office. Tara was running a finger along the warped wood of the bookshelf, looking for a trace of mystic energy. Willow stood in the center of the room. "Are you sure there's nothing here that used to belong to him?" Willow turned and faced the only other person in the room. Gunn scowled at her. "We only need one thing to work the spell."

Gunn shook his head. "We gave him his stuff back."

"All of it," Willow asked, unable to conceal her disappointment.

"All of it." Gunn gave her a firm nod.

Tara spoke up. She was so quiet Gunn had to step further into the room to hear what she had to say. "It doesn't matter if it _belonged_ to him. It just has to be something he touched often with purposeful intent. Objects don't know who owns them, only who gives them meaning."

Gunn started to shake his head, but then stopped. "Wait here." Gunn left Willow and Tara alone in the office. Willow looked at Tara. Tara gave her a gentle smile. Willow felt herself gravitating to her love. Tara placed a gentle hand on Willow's cheek. The delicate fingers traced Willow's expression. Before either of them could speak Gunn's pounding footsteps alerted them to his return. Both women returned to their respective orbits. Gunn reentered the room radiating rage and slammed a cardboard rectangle onto the desk. "This is the closest thing we got to that."

Willow looked at a beat-up edition of Risk. Tara looked over Willow's shoulder as Willow opened the box. Willow ran her hand over the box. "What was his color," she asked.

"Blue," Tara answered before Gunn could.

Gunn's frustration was interrupted by surprise. "How did you know that?"

…

Buffy stared at the baby in the cradle. It was weird being alone in a hotel room with her former boyfriend. It was even weirder to watch his child sleep. "You can hold him if you want."

Buffy tried to sound eager. "I'd love to. I don't want to wake him up."

Angel stepped closer to her, or maybe he was just stepping closer to the cradle where his sleeping child lay. Buffy wanted to flee. Angel picked up the baby. He looked so happy and full of love. Buffy felt a pang in her heart. _Darla gave him that. Darla gave him what I never could._

Angel cradled the baby. "He's fine, here."

Angel tried to transfer the baby into her arms, so she had no choice but to take the infant into her embrace. He was a weird weight. He smelled like formula and baby powder. He was a strange shape and temperature. Was holding Dawn as a baby like this? _You never held Dawn when she was a baby. Those memories are fake. Dawn never was a baby._ Buffy tried to recall advice on holding babies from TV and cinema. She started bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"What are you doing?" Angel sounded amused.

Buffy held the child out to him. "He wants his dad."

Angel took the baby. "You don't like him." Angel sounded hurt.

"Of course I like him. He's a baby. What's not to like?"

Even after all the time apart Buffy recognized the tread and voice of the person who entered the room and answered her rhetorical question. "They smell weird, are selfish, poop at the most inopportune times and never seem to have anything interesting to say."

"Faith," Buffy said. "I thought you were convalescing."

Faith limped up to the couple. "Can I," she asked Angel.

It irritated Buffy to no end that Angel handed the defenseless infant over to the psychotic murderer without even hesitating. Faith handled the baby as though he were the most valuable thing she had ever seen. The baby opened his eyes for a moment before curling up in her protective hold. "I think he likes you," Angel said. Buffy didn't think that was fair. The baby didn't know anything about Faith. He was hardly qualified to judge her character.

"Conner, right?" Faith rocked the child.

"Yeah, good Irish name," Angel said.

Faith looked at Buffy. "I… I'm sorry, for everything. Thank you for saving me."

Buffy was taken aback. "I didn't. If it weren't for Angel I would have let you die."

After the words left her mouth Buffy considered that they might have been harsh, but they didn't seem to upset Faith. "I don't mean what happened a couple years ago. All this time that I've been locked up, trying to redeem myself, you've been my inspiration. That saved me."

Buffy was floored. Even after everything that had gone down between the two slayers Faith was saying this to her? There was really only one response. "Then you're welcome, and I forgive you. I've done things I'm not proud of. Just this last year…" Buffy spared a glance at Angel and resolved to never bring up Spike ever again. "It's not easy to come back from the things we've done, the things that have been done to us." Buffy thought about the depression she had been slowly sinking into this past year. "I'm proud of you for changing. I'm glad you did."

Faith handed Conner back to his father. "Ready to save the world again?"

Buffy rolled her shoulders. "It's that time of year." Buffy felt oddly at ease. Forgiving Faith had been like dropping a huge weight she hadn't even been aware she'd been carrying. She felt fifty pounds lighter. Whatever came next could not be as hard as what just transpired.

…

Fred looked at the odd array of ingredients. There was a bowl of herbs. There was a collection of crystals and strange metals. There were a few charred bones. There was a bowl with a sharp knife in it that made her feel ill at ease. There were several dark blue plastic figurines Fred could not imagine a purpose for. Willow and Tara were conferring in hushed tones on one side of the collection of ingredients. Xander was whispering to the frightened Dawn what must have been some words of comfort. Anya was standing away from everyone watching them all with a critical eye. Cordelia and Gunn were arguing about something. Lorne was appraising the spell ingredients and nodding in approval. When Angel entered the lobby with the slayers the room seemed to reach a state of supersaturation. There were too many of them, and Fred wished the teenage girl and her minder had stayed back in Sunnydale. Fred glanced at the red witch.

Willow took that as a cue to begin. "The Wolf is very powerful, but it can't cross over completely into our dimension with all of her powers until she consumes the souls of the ones who summoned her. We still have time to exorcise her. The easiest- Yes, Cordelia, question?"

Fred looked over at Cordelia and saw her lowering her hand. "Wouldn't it be better to just kill the wolf right out? Why send her home where she can try this again some day?"

"We can't kill her," Willow said. "Most of her is still in her dimension."

"Can we kill the part that's here," Cordelia asked.

Fred sensed mounting frustration from both women. Soon it would spread throughout the room and infect them all, killing the potential for cooperation. Fred knew what the issue really was, the one neither woman would say first. Cordelia wanted Wesley dead, and Willow didn't.

"How does the spell work," Fred interrupted. "Are you sure it's effective?"

Willow looked relieved to be back on track. "If we can help Wesley regain control of his body for a little while then an exorcism will be easy. He would be able to teleport here and we could douse him with holy water and say the magic words. This spell will return his will."

"If he even wants to be cured," Cordelia said.

"He does," Lorne said.

Willow soldiered on. "The spell will allow for a sort of mind meld between one of us and Wesley. Whoever I cast the spell on will be able to restore his will by getting him to recite this incantation." Willow held up a piece of paper. "The subject should be whoever knows him best."

Fred looked at Cordelia and Angel. They had known him the longest. "The subject also has to be human," Tara said. "It won't work on demons or vampires." Cordelia then.

Gunn spoke up. "I'll do it."

"No," Cordelia said almost before he was finished speaking. "I've known Wes longer than any of you. I'll go in the idiot's head. I'll give him his will. But you all have to be prepared to do your part. If the exorcism doesn't work you have to kill him. You have to at least try."

"No problem," Xander said in a tone of voice Fred really could have done without.

"We'll do what we have to," Buffy said. "Hopefully the spell works."

Angel didn't look happy. "Is the spell dangerous for Cordelia?"

"She can wake up whenever she wants," Willow said. "But every spell is dangerous."

Fred noticed the way Willow looked down when she said that. She would know, more than anyone, just how dangerous spells were. "Let's do this," Cordelia said.

…

The spell required three casters. The demon called Lorne served as their third. His hand had a strange texture the academic in Willow found fascinating. But it was the other hand Willow was holding that filled her with warmth and confidence. Willow knew that what she had done was terrible, and she wasn't sure she would be able to trust her own judgment again for a long time, if ever. But Willow trusted Tara. This would work. The three of them finished their chant at the same time and picked up their items. Tara held a bowl that smelled like burning plastic and spices. Willow held a knife. Lorne held a few locks of hair. Willow had been stunned beyond belief when Cordelia consented to part with her hair. These were strange times. Tara held the bowl in the center of their circle. Willow held out her hand and made a deliberate cut before squeezing her hand into a fist and letting the blood fall in. Lorne dropped the hair into the mixture and completed the spell. At once blue smoke rose from the bowl. Willow turned her head and saw Cordelia lying on the bed. It was hard to tell if she was in a trance or asleep.

Tara put the bowl down and the three of them stood up. "Now what," Angel demanded.

"Now," Willow said. "We wait."

…

Lilah watched the footage from the W&H operatives' body cams. Nothing was happening yet of course. One spectacular dullard was picking his nose. But the GPS system projected their arrival time at five minutes. Soon that elusive witch would be well in hand. The vampire would be left alive of course, as the prophecy dictated. The baby would be captured for study. Any and all remainders would be executed. Lilah leaned back in her chair. Today was a good day.

…

Faith sat cross-legged on the tile floor of the lobby as she watched a van park in front of the entrance. She got to her feet with a lazy affect while a dozen men in body armor carrying an almost erotic array of weaponry ran toward the door. Faith smiled when they burst in and trained every weapon at her. "Look at the pretty red dots. I feel so festive."

"Get down on the ground!"

"Well now boys, I don't feel _that_ festive."

"We said-"

Faith was already dancing out of the way when Buffy's leap landed her atop one of the operatives. Buffy yanked the weapon from his hands and used it to bludgeon the man aiming his weapon at her. Faith sent an operative sprawling to the ground with a well-aimed kick and used the momentum to spin around and throw the man approaching her into another operative who was headed for Buffy. Angel decided to join the party then. Faith yanked a man's head gear off and used it to break his nose. "What's with the delay? You getting slow in your old age?"

"Watching slayers go to work, it's just too beautiful not to appreciate."

Well she couldn't argue with that.

…

Cordelia needed a few moments to place her location. It was the office they had used before Angel's epiphany. She wondered why Wesley would choose this of all places to represent part of his subconscious. Cordelia looked around. The room was empty. In fact, the windows were boarded up, and when she stepped outside she saw an 'out of business' sign nailed to the front door. "Huh," Cordelia looked up and down the street. This wasn't really the street their office had been on of course. She was in Wesley's head. The Hyperion was a few buildings down, Cordelia saw her apartment, there were a few buildings that looked as if they would fit right in at an English boarding school, there was a cozy-looking cottage, Cordelia saw the Sunnydale High library, there was a hospital, and there were dozens of other buildings that must have been significant in some way. Cordelia couldn't check them all. There wasn't time.

"Who are you?"

Cordelia gasped. When she turned to face the speaker she was shocked to find herself face to face with her own reflection. "What, you don't recognize me," she asked.

Cordelia's reflection sneered. "You don't belong here."

"Trust me, I know. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I find the guy in charge."

"What guy in charge?"

"Wow, does Wesley really think I'm this dumb?"

Cordelia's reflection scoffed. "Blue-eyes isn't in charge. He's not even here. He's off spying on the Wolf, for whatever reason. It's so pointless. Everything he does is pointless."

Cordelia frowned. Was that Wesley's opinion of himself or Wesley's impression of her opinion of himself? She was going to get a headache. "I need to talk to him, now."

"You'll have to go upstairs."

"Great, how do I get there?"

"You'll have to hitch a ride on recall."

Cordelia had no idea what that meant, but she was sure it wasn't going to be easy or pleasant in any way. "How the hell do I do that, and do you want to be a little less cryptic?"

"You have to go to a memory he's about to recall."

"Okay, which memory is he going to remember next?"

"No one knows what they're going to think before they think it."

Cordelia wanted to strangle her frustrating reflection. "Then what do I do?"

"Do what you always do."

"Which is?"

"What you were going to do anyway." Cordelia's reflection disappeared.


	6. Purple

"That's very helpful!" There was no one and nothing around to hear Cordelia, but she shouted at them anyway. Her reflection did not return. "Well what was I going to do?!"

No one answered. Well that was fine. Cordelia didn't need them. She started to walk toward the hotel out of habit more than anything. A familiar flare of pain spiked through her head with all the subtlety of a freight train. Cordelia was surprised she didn't topple over, but she wasn't in her physical body, so why would she? Cordelia saw white curtains and smelled the now all too familiar scent of antiseptic. She saw a woman in a nurse's uniform and heard a familiar voice say… something. Cordelia blinked. She looked up at the night sky. It was a weird dark blue color, and there were no moon or stars anywhere to be seen. "Was that the memory I'm supposed to find?! A map would have been more helpful!" Of course there was no response.

Cordelia looked over at the hospital. "Guess I'm going there," she muttered. As she walked Cordelia considered the voice she had heard. The more she thought about it the more certain she became it was Wesley, but there had been something off with his voice. It was too high maybe? Perhaps he was younger. Cordelia pushed open the glass hospital doors and found herself in front of an examination table. She was pretty sure no hospital in the history of ever was laid out this way, but then again this wasn't a real hospital. A little kid was sitting on the table cradling his arm and biting his lip. A nurse entered the room, but it wasn't the right nurse, so this wasn't the right memory. Cordelia wasn't sure why, but she tarried for a moment in the room.

The nurse looked at a clipboard. She had a kind face and gave the little boy a friendly smile. "Hi Wesley. Do you want to tell me what happened to your arm?"

The little boy looked miserable. Cordelia supposed misery was a common side effect of broken arms, especially in small children. "I fell," he said in a voice too high for her vision.

"Climbing trees?" All of a sudden the nurse's cheery demeanor didn't seem kind or friendly but rather just plain annoying. Cordelia felt the urge to slap the young woman.

The boy shook his head. "I'm not allowed to climb trees."

"So how did you fall?"

"I was clumsy." Cordelia didn't think that was true. All of a sudden she wanted to run far away from this little boy. Just looking at him was causing a tightness in her chest.

Cordelia rushed through the door the nurse had come through and found herself in an ER waiting room. It wasn't too crowded, so Cordelia had little trouble spotting Wesley sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs holding a handkerchief to a bloody slash that ran from his shoulder to his elbow. Needless to say the handkerchief wasn't really helping. Cordelia could guess when this had happened because Wesley was wearing leather pants. Cordelia realized she wasn't the only one watching Wesley when a girl with a lollipop sticking out of her mouth walked over and sat down next to him. She was young, somewhere in the middle of puberty, which made her way too young to be sitting next to strange guys in sparsely populated ERs.

Wesley seemed to come to the same conclusion. "Where are your parents?"

The girl ignored the question and nodded at Wes' arm. "How'd you get that?"

Wesley looked at the cut. "Stupidity," he answered with a reluctant tone.

"Want to see mine?" The girl gripped her shirt like she was going to lift it up.

"No, that's quite all right. I'd really rather- Jesus." The girl had ignored Wesley and exposed her abdomen, which sported the ugliest purple bruise. "What happened to you?"

The girl dropped her shirt and shrugged. "Stepfather," she said with a dismissive air.

"Are you going to tell the police?"

"Why would I do that," she asked.

"Well I confess I am a stranger to your country, but I do believe it's a crime to abuse children in your care," Wesley told the girl. He seemed so calm about the topic.

"I suppose, but even if they did arrest him, where would I go? What would I eat? I have never gone hungry before, not really, but the hunger in Africa documentaries at school make it look terrible. My mom doesn't work. She used to, but she never liked it," the girl explained.

"Yes, hunger is terrible," Wesley conceded.

"Does it hurt? Like getting hit?" She seemed genuinely curious.

"It's a different kind of hurt. It's more of an ache really, and you find yourself often very tired and confused. More than anything it's a terrible empty feeling inside you. When it goes on long enough your stomach starts to make strange sounds as though it's eating itself. After a while the feeling fades, but then it wakes up when you eat something, as if your body is begging you to feed it as much as possible, like you're not trying and doing the best you can," Wesley answered.

The girl nodded, considering this. It was so surreal. They were acting like they were discussing movies or ice cream flavors or some similarly mundane topic, not the comparative merits of abuse versus starvation. "I think I'll just stick with getting hit. I'm pretty much used to it by now, and the nurse gave me candy." The girl held up her lollipop as evidence.

"You shouldn't have to go through this," Wesley said.

The girl shrugged. "Life sucks, yeah? I'm sure my dad didn't want to die young, but nobody up there asked his opinion, now did they? It could be worse I guess."

Wesley sighed. "I suppose, but-"

"Jenny! Get away from that strange man. Come here."

A woman by the counter had spotted the girl and was calling her over. Jenny gave Wesley an amused expression that sort of said it all. In a way it was sort of funny that Jenny's mother was worried about a strange man hurting her daughter when there was a familiar man at home waiting to do that. At least it was funny to Jenny, not so much to Cordelia. "Bye."

Wesley watched the girl walk away with a haunted look on his face. Cordelia felt haunted too as she located the next door and walked through, weary of what would be waiting for her.

…

Fred walked into the lobby where Xander was playing with guns and Faith was sitting on the couch watching the door. Fred approached the slayer. "You should get some rest."

Faith didn't take her eyes away from the door. "There will be another attack."

"That's why you should get some rest. Someone else can take watch."

Faith spared Fred a brief glance. "Or I can. Since I'm already here, might as well."

Fred heard a chuckle. "Give it up Fred," Xander said. "Faith does what Faith wants."

Fred turned around. "I didn't ask you."

Xander scowled. "I was just trying to help you out."

"Well trying is not succeeding," Fred said.

Faith howled with laughter while Xander put down the gun he had been examining and stormed upstairs muttering about how he didn't have to take this crap. "All right, sit down tiny Texan, you and I are talking. That was great. I wish Angel had been here to see that."

Fred sat down next to Faith. "I'm just sick of people patronizing me. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. I'm sure he's nice and everything, but I can waste my time if I want."

"He is nice," Faith conceded. "And I do owe him an apology for that attempted murder I just realized I forgot to apologize for. Man, this atonement thing is rough."

"Just wondering," Fred began. "How many people in this hotel have you tried to kill?"

"Oh gee, let's see. There's Xander of course, and then Angel, Buffy, Willow… I don't think you can say I tried to _kill_ Cordelia per se, but I did knock her out. I think that's it."

Fred looked at Faith and tried to picture the events she was describing. "So you used to be a for real bad guy, huh? Like with the full on scary and everything," Fred asked.

Faith gave Fred a rueful smile. "I was the scariest."

"So… what changed?"

"Angel," was Faith's immediate answer. "He saved me. He believed that I could change."

"And you did." Fred beamed. She loved a happy ending. Whatever Faith had done in her past she was fighting the good fight now. That was inspiring, wasn't it? "Angel was right."

Faith smirked. "So what about you? What's your story?"

"I got sucked into an alternate dimension," Fred explained. "Angel saved me."

Something Fred had said seemed to catch Faith's attention in a way that nothing she had said before had. Faith examined her face. "So you walked between worlds," Faith asked.

"I guess so, I mean… I suppose." Fred wasn't sure what the significance of those words were, but they resonated with meaning. It was unclear however if the meaning was inherent in the words or imbued on them by the way Faith chose to say them. "Why do you ask?"

Faith shook her head. "No reason. Why did you stay with Angel after he rescued you?"

"I…" Fred trailed off. At the time everything had been so clear. Now she wasn't sure how to answer that question. In light of recent events Fred wondered if staying in LA had been the right choice after all. "Sometimes there's no going back, ya know? I can't pretend I didn't see the things I saw or that I don't know the things I know. That stuff is out there," Fred explained.

Faith nodded. "I guess you're right. No matter- who the hell is that?"

Fred looked toward the door. "Angel! The evil lawyer bitch is here!"

Fred gripped her stake as Lilah entered. Faith didn't reach for a weapon, but she didn't really need one. Her body was a weapon. Angel made it downstairs first, with Buffy on his heels and the others close behind, except for Willow, Tara and Dawn. Angel stepped in front of Fred and Faith to stare at Lilah. "What the hell do you want Lilah?" His voice shook with rage.

"That was pretty impressive, what you did to my employees."

"We'll do it again to the next team you send. No guarantees that they all make it out alive this time. Your last group just caught us in a charitable mood. Though I don't suppose the lives of the people who work for you mean anything to you," Angel said.

"Not really," Lilah confirmed. "Hell, it's not like I even know their names."

"Why are you here," Angel demanded again.

"Because I'll send more men next time. I'll send even more the time after that, and I will keep sending men until one of you dies. I can do this forever. I can do this until every single person in this rotting dump is a sticky corpse. I don't care." Lilah smiled as if they were planning a dinner party. Fred was tempted to pick up a crossbow and embed an arrow into one of Lilah's long shapely legs. She subdued the impulse. "Or," Lilah continued. "We could do business."

Anya spoke up from the back. "She wants Willow, but she is taking an unnecessary amount of time to get around to saying that. Verbose evil woman you need only say 'give me Willow or I will kill you all' to get your point across. Some of us do not have time for theatrics."

Lilah scowled. Fred was liking this Anya now, if for no other reason than that she managed to piss Lilah off. "Deliver her to me now and you will all be allowed to live."

Fred scoffed. "Yeah, because you're trustworthy."

"Nobody asked you corn princess," Lilah said.

"You're not getting Willow," Buffy said. "You're insane if you think we'll just hand her over to you." That was pretty crazy. Lilah may not know these Scooby people, but surely she had gone up against Angel Investigations enough times to know that they would never go along with a Wolfram & Hart plan even if it didn't mean sacrificing some poor woman's soul. Unless…

Fred bolted for the stairs. Lilah did know that, and she knew all the heavy hitters would come downstairs to guard against whatever tricks Lilah had up her sleeves. Lilah would know that Willow would hide, because Willow knew she was crucial to the plan. Fred heard someone swear, which meant someone probably just came to the same conclusion she did. Fred felt Faith rush past her. The slayer was fast. Buffy was right behind her. Fred reached the landing and felt a weird energy in the air. There was a sort of heavy humidity all around them. Then there was an explosion and Fred was flying. Then there was nothing at all, and Fred was sleeping.

…

Cordelia watched herself sit in an uncomfortable chair and watch poor pale Wesley struggle not to let anyone know how bad he was hurting. Gunn came in with coffee and an unconvincing cheery demeanor. It's hard to be cheerful when a friend takes a bullet for you.

"You're almost out of time." Cordelia looked over her shoulder and saw Faith standing there watching her watch herself watch Wesley. Yeah, she was definitely getting a headache.

"I've been all over this hospital. Whatever Wesley was about to remember I'm sure he's remembered it by now. Even if he hasn't, how am I supposed to find the dammed thing?!"

Faith peered at Wesley. "Why are you in a hospital?"

Cordelia ground her teeth in frustration. "That's where he was in my vision."

"Are you sure?"

Cordelia blew up. "Yes! I'm sure! And I've been to every room in this damn hospital looking for it! I've seen my friend with broken ribs and snapped limbs and black eyes and every other damn thing that's ever happened to him! I watched him wince and whimper into a wheelchair after freaking blowing up to come cure me! I don't know where else to look!"

"You're upset," Faith whispered.

"Of course I'm upset!"

"I thought you didn't care."

Cordelia deflated. "I-I don't. That doesn't make it easy to see."

Faith nodded. "Well… That's bullshit."

Cordelia scowled. "What do you know about it? Hell, you tortured him."

Faith nodded. "I did. I confess it."

"Wait…" Cordelia scrutinized Faith. "You're you, aren't you? How are you here?"

Faith looked around the room. "I got beat down a few times in lock up, but I never went to the hospital. They only take you to the hospital if it's like life or death."

"That's not exactly helpful," Cordelia said. "Wesley's never been to prison." The wheels began to turn in Cordelia's head. "But he has been to boarding school. That's like a prison."

"With fewer cavity searches I hope," Faith said.

"They both have infirmaries! He was in an infirmary!"

Faith smiled. "You better hurry." Faith put her hand on Cordelia's chest and shoved.

…

Willow hugged her knees as she listened to her friends downstairs. She wished she could help them, but she knew she was just a liability at this point. Willow glanced at Cordelia and willed her old classmate to work faster. Dawn was pacing the room. Tara watched Cordelia, probably reading her aura. "Do you see anything," Willow asked, unsure if she wanted to know.

"I see a lot of pain and grief." Tara soundest devastated herself. "I see… regret."

Willow was well-acquainted with that emotion. Willow got to her feet and drew Tara into her embrace. "I will do any and everything it takes to show you how sorry I am," Willow swore.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be happy. I want you to be healthy."

Willow breathed in Tara's scent. She smelled like lime zest. "What was it like?"

"It was like Buffy said," Tara whispered. "It was nice."

Willow had more questions, but she didn't get to ask them. The door opened, and before anyone could react a demon was in the room. Dawn opened her mouth to call for help, but the demon opened its own and made a weird sucking sound. Dawn clutched her throat, eyes bugging out with terror. Willow tried to speak, but no sound came. In the back of her mind Willow wondered if this demon was in any way affiliated with the gentlemen. In the forefront of her mind Willow tried to think of a way to kill it. Willow channeled energy at the demon, sending it sliding into the hall. Tara was pouring through their box of spell ingredients, looking for something in particular. When Willow saw Tara find it she felt pride and relief. The spell was one Willow knew, and it was effective. An explosion would radiate from the room, while not actually touching anything in the room. The explosion was unlikely to kill the demon, but it would serve the dual purpose of stunning the demon and getting Buffy's attention.

Sometimes, you try to do everything right, but everything goes wrong. Willow heard footsteps on the stairs and realized someone must have figured out something was going on and was heading for them. Willow opened her mouth to warn Tara, but of course no sound emerged.

…

Cordelia took in her new surroundings. This was the right place for sure. She recognized the curtains. Cordelia glared at Faith. "Did you have to shove me," Cordelia demanded.

Faith pointed at the exam table and the teenager on it. Cordelia recognized the nurse examining the boy. The women walked over to investigate. "What happened Wesley?"

"They shoved me off my bunk," he muttered in a forlorn voice.

"Well at least it looks like you have a bottom bunk. I imagine this bruising would be much worse if you fell from higher up. The fencing practical is tomorrow too."

Wesley looked stricken. "Can't you write me a note?"

"Don't be selfish. If you miss the practical some poor instructor will have to take time out of his busy schedule to help you make it up. The whole world doesn't revolve around you."

Cordelia really wanted to punch this woman. "It hurts something awful."

The woman shrugged as she continued her exam. "I'm sure it does."

"I don't like pain," Wesley whispered like it was a shameful secret.

"Most people don't. It's just something we must learn to accept." The nurse began making notes in a file. "Pain is a part of life. Only death is painless. Do you want to die?"

Wesley shook his head emphatically. "No! Of course-"

The nurse continued. "Suffering is integral to life. It is how we atone for our sins."

"I haven't sinned," Wesley protested in a weak murmur.

"Of course you have. All of you rotten little boys sin. We are each of us born from sin into a sinful world. Your very conception was a sin. How could you not be a sinner?"

"But…" Wesley didn't have a response. Cordelia couldn't blame him.

"Go on then. Remember, pain is a part of atonement. We all deserve to suffer."

Wesley went as he was bid. The moment he left the room the memory started all over again, with Wesley on the table. Cordelia turned away so as to not have to watch the chilling conversation a second time. To her displeasure this left her looking at her least favorite slayer.

"Are you ready," Faith asked.

"For what," Cordelia asked.

"To go up there. To bring him back."

Cordelia glared at the slayer. "He ruined everything." She all but spat each word.

"So you hate him?"

"Yes!"

"If you say so."

"I do!"

"I'm not arguing with you."

"Damn it Faith! You don't understand! I trusted him! I loved him!"

"And now," Faith asked in a soft calm voice.

"He betrayed me. He was never who I thought he was."

"No one ever is. Men are deceivers all."

"And that makes it okay?" Cordelia looked at Faith with pure hate.

"Of course not. You are right. He must pay for his sins."

"That's not what I- Stop twisting my words!" Faith didn't answer. She just stared at Cordelia, and oh how Cordelia hated her. She didn't understand. "He lied to me."

Faith smiled. "He did. It's in his nature to lie."

Cordelia found herself curious despite everything. "Why?"

"Watchers are taught to hoard truth. It goes against all of their teachings to give it away."

"He's not a watcher," Cordelia insisted.

"We are all what we are, yellow girl."

Cordelia was thrown. "What did you call me?"

Faith looked at her own hand. "Once I was whole. For many lifetimes I was complete with a balanced nature. Then I was split in two. Now I'm all bruised and purple."

"I don't know what that means. I'm not sure I care either."

"Do you know your own nature?"

Cordelia frowned. "Is this going to help me free Wes?"

"Do you want to free him?"

"It doesn't matter what I want."

"Right now it matters more than anything."

Cordelia looked back at the forlorn teenager. "What is his nature?"

"Blue-eyes? His nature is apathy."

"And mine?"

"Change, sunflower. Your nature is to grow and change."

"And you're…?"

"Apathy, and passion."

Cordelia scoffed. "You can't be both."

Faith closed her hand into a fist. "We're supposed to be all three. But no one ever is."

Cordelia felt something begin to pull at her. "Are you coming," she asked Faith.

"Last call," Faith said. "Let's go catch a wolf."


End file.
